


Precious as Gold

by i-wanna-be-your-last (hmweasley)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Football Player Louis, I feel bad for not including more Niall, M/M, Rating is purely for language, there isn't much shown homophobia despite the summary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-05-26 15:01:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6244360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hmweasley/pseuds/i-wanna-be-your-last
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I want to come out." Five simple words that shouldn't have come as a surprise, but the second Harry spoke them, Louis' world was rocked. They had kept up the lies until the lies became comfortable. Suddenly, Louis is thinking about what has to happen next: telling the truth.</p><p>He knows that being an openly gay player for Manchester United would be a big deal. He could make a difference. But he would also face more than his fair share of homophobia, and that makes coming out more difficult than he wishes it had to be.</p><p>(i.e. Louis is a player for Manchester United. Harry, Niall, and Liam are One Direction. And Zayn is an artist who may or may not care about Louis. Louis has never been sure.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Precious as Gold

**Author's Note:**

> It feels good to post this. I started writing it nearly six months ago, but I kept putting it aside to work on other things. (I made the great decision of starting to write it during the most hectic semester of college I've had so far.) It's finished though. Yay!
> 
> I need to thank [hstyles-ltommo](http://hstyles-ltommo.tumblr.com/), marionmoseby500, and [takemetothemoonpls](http://takemetothemoonpls.tumblr.com/%22). They each agreed to beta read this story for me and give me some advice, which was really helpful.
> 
> Also, I'm American, so I apologize for any ways I screw up because of that. On top of that, despite playing soccer/football as a kid, I know next to nothing about professional football. I've done my research as best as I could, but I'm sorry for anything that's wrong. If anything bothers anyone too much, then I'll try to edit it and fix it if at all possible.
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading!

Adrenaline coursed through Louis’ body. It was always that way after practice. Hours later, he would still feel remnants of the high that being on a football field afforded him. He loved it. He lived for it. Football was one of those things where he couldn’t understand how others lived without it. If he hadn’t made it professionally, Louis had no idea what he would be doing with his life, but it would probably be miserable.

Usually, Louis relished taking a shower after practice, but today, he was impatient, letting the soap slip out of his hands as he hurried through the motions. Because today wasn’t a normal day. For the first time in months, he wouldn’t be going home to an empty house. It was enough to make him want to leave immediately, but it wouldn’t do to see Harry after so long while smelling like death. So he scrubbed as best he could before he lost the last bit of his patience.

He slid across the floor as he ran through the locker room, almost falling on his face. A few of his teammates looked on in amusement. No doubt they would have loved it if he’d fallen. They’d laugh at his expense for weeks, just like he’d have done to any of them if the situation were reversed.

None of them knew that today was special. Unless they followed those One Direction update Twitter accounts (which Louis, of course, didn’t follow either), then they weren’t even aware that yesterday had been the last day of the latest world tour. If they were aware of that much, they were at least unaware of why the event would be important to Louis.

The excitement that his best friend was back he could have revealed if he was in London, but he couldn’t explain that said best friend was actually in Manchester when that fact was supposed to be top secret. He also wouldn’t be beaming this largely and sliding across the floor for someone who was his best friend and nothing more. It was better to stay quiet about what had him like this.

In his rush, it was possible that things were sliding out of his bag, but he didn’t pay any attention as he hurried out of the locker room, yelling good byes to his team members still going through their after practice routines.

The trip to his car felt longer than normal even though he took it at a near run. As soon as he got there, Louis tossed his stuff into the backseat and hurried off. The drive through Manchester also dragged on. Louis tapped his fingers furiously against the steering wheel.

His heart beat a bit faster once the house came into view. Their house. It would always be their house. Louis didn’t care if only his name was on the paperwork or if Harry supposedly lived in London. The legality of who owned what didn’t change the fact that they each had their possessions scattered across both houses. It didn’t change the fact that Louis had just as much stuff at the Los Angeles house that was supposedly just Harry’s as Harry had.

The house was quiet as Louis put the car in park. It was always like this. Even before he and Harry had been living together, Louis had cherished the small privacy that not having paparazzi at his house afforded him. He disguised less of his life than many of his teammates who preferred to firmly separate work and their private lives. For Louis, being open had always been a way of carefully maintaining the network of lies he had built up. If he revealed everything about his life that he could, then the idea that he could be hiding something as immense as being gay became less believable.

At least that was how Louis had worked it out when he’d first started getting attention from the press, and he’d been operating under that system ever since. Aside from some rumors that were to be expected, a fact his manager had difficulty assuring him of in the beginning, Louis hadn’t had as many close calls as he had worried about having. These days he was almost comfortable living within the careful fiction he had created for himself. He knew he could maintain it, only revealing certain information in front of the right people.

Different people in Louis’ life knew different things, but he had probably strengthened his memory over the years by keeping track of what to say in front of who. His family and closest friends knew everything, of course. Harry knew even more. His teammates and most of the people at work knew nothing, but Louis’ personal manager and publicist knew enough to help him keep the information that needed to be a secret, a secret.

Louis felt excitement bubble up in his veins as he made it to the door. He couldn’t help but smile at Harry’s car as he passed it. Louis hadn’t seen any of Harry’s vehicles in months. The car that usually sat here had been driven to London when Harry had had to fly out of Heathrow, and every car Harry owned had been sitting in the garage in London since. Louis hadn’t been in London while Harry was out of the country. There was no point. He preferred being in Manchester unless London provided the incentive that was Harry Styles.

Harry’s fans had no idea that the house in London sat empty far more often than not. Harry would disappear, letting everyone assume he was still in the city but staying on the downlow. Then, every week and a half or so, Harry would make the drive down to London just long enough to establish himself as being in the city before he headed back to Manchester. Occasionally, he did stay longer, but it was nothing like people thought. It was also a tiring routine for Harry, and Louis thanked the universe every day that Harry wanted to be here in Manchester with him enough to put up with it.

Harry went through a lot of shit to be with Louis. Butterflies fluttered around Louis’ stomach at the thought.

“Harry,” he called as soon as he was in the door.

The dog reached him before his boyfriend did, but Louis brushed the animal aside. He’d seen him just this morning, but you wouldn’t have known it from the dog’s reaction. Harry came around the corner, beaming. He too ignored the excited dog, scooping Louis into his arms.

“Hi,” Harry greeted him, burying his face into the crook of Louis’ neck.

Louis felt the tension leave his body as he sunk into the warm embrace. “Hi,” he muttered into Harry’s skin.

They stood there, gripping each other, long enough for the dog to lose interest and run off to another part of the house. Probably to bother the cat, his favorite pastime.

Pulling away, Louis said, “I’m happy you’re home.”

Harry hummed in reply. There was a relaxed look on his face that hadn’t been present in the paparazzi photos that Louis hadn’t been able to avoid seeing over the course of the tour. The only time he’d been able to see it was when they’d facetimed while Harry was gone. That was never like having Harry in front of him where he was in focus and Louis could reach out and assure himself that Harry was real and alive and not some hologram created to be the perfect boy. Sometimes, once it had been so long, Louis started doubting Harry’s existence.

But then Harry would be in his arms again, and the reality of Harry would come rushing back to him. And the reality of Harry was always far more amazing than the abstract idea of perfection that was the public persona of Harry Styles.

“Have you eaten dinner?” Harry asked, and god bless him, there was a hint of real concern in his voice, as if he believed that Louis hadn’t eaten since he’d left or something.

“No,” Louis said, trying to bite down his grin at Harry’s frown.

Harry pulled away and walked over to the fridge, yanking it open. Louis perched up on the counter, already giggling to himself. He knew what was about to come, and Harry did too. Harry digging through the fridge was part of their routine, even if he knew what he would find.

“Louis,” he scolded, “there’s absolutely nothing in here to make a meal out of.”

“There’s plenty,” Louis countered. “I would never let myself go hungry, Styles.” Harry made a noise of disbelief, and Louis couldn’t help himself from adding, “There’s leftover pizza.”

Harry turned a disapproving gaze in Louis’ direction, and Louis beamed, reveling in the exaggerated annoyance Harry showed. Harry would never understand how Louis could live off as much pizza as he did. Louis could hear his past comments in his head, “Pizza is delicious, Lou, but you can only eat one type of food so many times before it gets old.” He never listened to Louis’ insistence that there were lots of types of pizza. No need to order the same thing time after time. That would just be boring.

“I’ll have to go to the store tomorrow,” Harry muttered. Louis was still beaming. Anytime Harry left the house in Manchester, it was a challenge. One spotting and a cover story would have to be released. They, or their teams at least, already had several on hand in case of an emergency. They’d had to do it before. Luckily, Harry had become an expert on the locations to visit and times to do so when he would be around the least number of people who knew of One Direction. He’d manage just fine.

Louis watched fondly as Harry pulled out his phone and opened the notes app. His brow furrowed as he thought about what he should buy. It was so domestic. Louis lived for these moments. Well, these moments and football. If he could have the both of them for the rest of his life, he would die happy.

After letting Harry fuss over his grocery list for a few minutes, Louis grew restless.

“Okay, okay,” he said, sliding down from the counter. He made his way over to Harry, taking his boyfriend’s attention away from his phone. “That’s for tomorrow. You just got back.”

Louis stuck his bottom lip out in a pout and got an immediate reaction from Harry. With a sigh, Harry leaned over to drop his phone onto the kitchen table without watching what he was doing. They reached for each other at the same time, and Louis couldn’t help but smile as their lips met. It felt so good to have Harry back again.

He loved what Harry did for a living because Harry loved it, but Louis would be the first to admit that dating a member of the world’s biggest boyband could be exhausting. Especially when you were doing it in secret. Add on top of that the fact that Louis had his own commitments and necessary travel as a professional football player, and what time he and Harry were able to spend together was as precious as gold. Louis knew not to take it for granted.

“I’ve missed you,” Harry whispered with his face less than an inch from Louis’.

Louis had lost track of whether or not either of them had said that particular sentiment yet. It had been implied, and they’d said it enough in the past for it to be ingrained inside each of them, but Louis repeated it anyway, meaning every single word.

“I always miss you,” Louis added for emphasis. Harry smiled, and Louis did too. But there was a sadness there for both of them, one that knew they’d miss each other again soon enough. Because there was always a foreseeable future where one of them would be away from Manchester doing what they loved but not with the person they loved most.

“Not always,” Harry insisted. “You can’t miss me right now. I’m standing right here.”

And that much was true. Somehow, it made Louis feel warmer inside. Any traces of negativity that Louis had dredged up about Harry eventually leaving were washed away. Focusing on that did nothing but turn what could be happiness into sadness. Louis had learned a long time ago that he couldn’t do that. When he did, he kept working himself up until he was a wreck, and then bad things happened, bad things that it had taken him ages to pull himself out of the last time he let himself descend into that dark pit.

“There are still things I miss though,” Louis insisted. It wasn’t said with sadness. Instead, this time Louis’ voice was light and bubbly as he thought of all the things he got now that Harry was home.

“Like?” Harry’s voice was deeper than it had been seconds ago. It was tinged with a sense of longing that hadn’t been there seconds ago.

Louis smirked. Despite the longing Louis could feel throughout his entire body, he couldn’t let things go there first. He had other intentions.

“You haven’t given me food,” he said with a smirk, enjoying the look Harry gave him that was a mixture of exasperation and amusement. Louis laughed, causing the amusement to overpower Harry’s annoyance.

“Chef Harry at your service,” Harry said, trying and failing to sound sarcastic. “But I already warned you that there’s barely anything here.”

“And you and I both know that’s not true.” Louis perched himself back up on the counter. His favorite spot from which to watch Harry work whenever he was cooking. “There’s leftover pizza and cheese and eggs and I bought some bread the other day. Oh, and I think there’s still a can of corn left from when I went grocery shopping last and was trying to be healthy.”

Harry shook his head as he looked through what was at his disposal.

“You’re a footie player,” he pointed out. “You’re supposed to be healthy. That might as well be an official part of the job description.”

And Harry was right. It was part of the job description, and the majority of the time, Louis ate healthier than Harry’s faux criticisms would have attested. Even when Harry wasn’t there to cook for him, Louis ate the diet expected of him the vast majority of the time. But he always fell off the bandwagon when it got closer to Harry’s return. He’d start thinking of Harry’s cooking and how much he missed it. Then anything he was able to fix himself (that never tasted the same as Harry’s cooking) felt inadequate, and soon the only thing Louis wanted was junk. By the time Harry got back, Louis would be burnt out on that and want nothing but whatever Harry was willing to fix him.

It was their routine. And Louis loved their routine. If his self from several years ago had seen him acting all domestic, seen him relishing the feel of any routine at all, he would have been sick. Louis could remember those days. They felt so long ago. God, Louis felt like such an adult these days. He couldn’t believe it, but he felt the way he had never believed he would feel. Like he had settled down, and it was nice. It was comforting to know he could expect these things, that Harry loved him and was always there even if he was physically on the other side of the globe.

“What’s on the other side of the Earth?” Louis asked abruptly, causing Harry to pause from beating the eggs for a second. “Under our feet, like. If we dug a hole in the backyard, where would we come out?”

Harry shrugged, and it was a sign of what their relationship had become that he didn’t question why Louis had had the thought out of the blue.

“I don’t know,” he said. There was a hint of curiosity, as if Louis had gotten him wondering the answer to the question too. “Maybe Google it?”

So Louis did Google it on his phone while keeping part of his attention on watching Harry make their dinner.

Louis didn’t expect to find websites that gave him the answer easily, although he should have. It was the Internet after all.

“Haz, there are websites for this,” Louis said in excitement. Harry hummed in acknowledgment, not looking up from where he was busy messing around with the food. Louis played around with the map until he’d found their location as best he could. Only then did he glance over at the other map and sigh in disappointment.

“The middle of the ocean,” he told Harry. “Too far south from New Zealand to swim it.”

“South?” Harry asked, still not glancing over. “Towards Antarctica? Might have to remake Titanic if we ever wound up in the water that far south.”

“We’d take a bigger piece of wood with us,” Louis said, smiling again.

“Or a boat.”

“Or a boat,” Louis echoed.

It was oddly satisfying to imagine himself floating through a freezing ocean with Harry. Louis might have been slightly out of his mind.

“We should go back to New Zealand,” Harry continued. He’d just taken something off a burner, and he was looking at Louis again. “It’s been ages.”

Butterflies fluttered in Louis’ stomach. He smiled as Harry came to stand in front of him. Louis reached out to pull him in.

He remembered the last trip well. It was one of the only times Louis had tried to sneakily join Harry on tour. Things had been going great at first, but then they’d been caught in Wellington. Louis had gone home the next day, but it had been easy enough to talk themselves out of the rumors.

“New Zealand was amazing,” Louis allowed. And it had been. That trip had been one of the funnest of his life, and he’d fallen in love with what little natural beauty he’d been able to see. The downside was that he had seen much of it without Harry while Harry was off doing his boyband duties. Being somewhere in secret had been the only incentive Louis needed to explore the less populated areas outside of the city. Harry hadn’t gotten that, and Louis had wished desperately that they had been able to explore together.

It would have been a dream come true if they managed another trip. Going back to New Zealand and seeing it together had become a joint dream of theirs, but the more time that past, the less Louis believed it would ever be reality. Not like they wanted it to be, where they got to walk around hand in hand and not care who saw them or took photos or filmed them.

Such a thing was unimaginable anywhere except their own home. Perhaps that was why Louis had become more of a homebody than he’d ever been before Harry. He preferred that explanation over the alternative: that he was becoming domestic and settling down. Louis liked to pretend that they didn’t all apply.

“New Zealand was amazing,” Harry agreed. His breath hit Louis’ neck, and Louis shivered as he felt Harry leave kisses against his skin.

It took several moments for Louis’ stomach to growl and remind him of what they were supposed to be doing before he let this happen.

“Food,” he managed to get out, voice sounding heavy. Harry pulled away with a groan but nodded his head.

“It’s basically ready,” he said, turning back to grab what he had made. Louis smiled and pulled his boyfriend back in for a quick kiss.

“We’ll eat quickly,” he promised as he grabbed a plate to begin scooping food onto. He hummed in satisfaction as he took the first bite. Having Harry around was the best decision Louis had made in his life. New Zealand or no New Zealand.

XXX

Louis wasn’t an early riser by nature, but the trait had been forced upon him by football. These days he was awake long before he would like to be every day, whether he had the day off or not. Despite the stressful schedule that came along with being a member of the world’s biggest boyband, Harry’s internal clock hadn’t been as permanently shifted as Louis’ had been. Louis figured that had something to do with Harry’s natural ability to fall asleep whenever and wherever he wanted. He was never up until he wanted to be or was forced awake.

And Louis could never bring himself to force Harry awake unless there was somewhere he had to be. In sleep, Harry looked peaceful. It was such a cliche, but Louis got why all the romance stories mentioned it. Any tension and worry present in someone’s features while awake was always gone when they slept unless they were in the throes of a nightmare.

Celebrities weren’t allowed to be relaxed. Years ago, Louis would have expected the security of having more than enough money to live off for the rest of your life would be a relief. That alone should have erased his worries. It had come as a shock when he saw how stressful being in the public eye was. It wasn’t like being the star football player back in Doncaster. In the early days, he had felt constantly tired thanks to the scrutiny. Maybe he still did these days and the only difference was that it was so much a part of his life that he didn’t notice it anymore.

He noticed it in Harry though. They’d each been famous in their own ways for roughly the same period of time. One Direction had been put together on The X Factor during the first series of the show to air after Louis signed to Manchester United, the same time when his name started to become one that people recognized.

Their individual rises to fame had been unique, evidenced by the different demographics most likely to recognize either one of them on the street. Their fanbases had only started to have any noticeable overlap after the Wellington slip up.

And by that, Louis meant he had suddenly had a lot more Twitter followers that liked to gush about how hot he was in all caps in his mentions. That had been a change. One that Louis still didn’t fully understand. It had taken months before the other guys on the team (and, to an even greater degree, the guys on the other teams and the fans) had stopped with the constant taunting about Louis’ new “fangirls.” Fangirls who were also Harry’s fangirls more often than not. The new joint fanclub they had inadvertently created didn’t make keeping their relationship under wraps any easier, but it was what it was.

Louis had perhaps one of the youngest and most female group of fans of anyone in the league. He could champion that. It made life interesting if he was being honest. And sometimes the amount of girls professing their love for him helped keep the gay rumors at bay, opportunities that Louis was always looking out for.

Overall, Louis took to fame well. It stressed him out at times, but he had to say that it was ultimately more enjoyable than unenjoyable. The only large improvement he would have made was being able to open up about his sexuality without any consequences, but being a famous athlete didn’t leave him perpetually exhausted.

Sometimes Louis thought Harry was perpetually exhausted, and that worried him. Louis was the one who played sports for a living. He should have been the one coming home looking tired. But with the fangirls or the constant touring or the constant rumors, some or all of it made Harry look tired more often than not. It had been like that since “What Makes You Beautiful” launched One Direction to worldwide celebrity status.

It was embarrassing how much of a fanboy Louis had been back then. They were in entirely different circles, but Louis always watched X Factor, and he had become infatuated with Harry from the beginning. He’d paid close attention to One Direction once the series was over, even if he’d kept that fact close to his chest and hidden away.

That they had managed to meet early on in both of their careers wasn’t a fluke on Louis’ part. One Direction’s first tour had brought them to Manchester. Louis had gotten tickets and was noteworthy enough to be brought backstage. The rest was history. It had taken several months before Louis admitted that he’d gone out of hope of meeting Harry. He’d been shocked when Harry admitted that he’d taken to watching every Man U game after watching one with Liam and noticing the fittest player he’d ever seen, i.e. Louis.

They’d been living in mutual, disgusting infatuation ever since.

And Louis had watched as Harry’s default state became exhaustion. It worried him, but there was little he could do. Being in a boyband was demanding, far more demanding than Louis would have guessed before Harry was in his life. But doing this was also Harry’s dream. Not so much the boyband part, but being a singer. Harry wouldn’t have given it up for the world. The exhaustion was a necessary evil.

So Louis didn’t like to wake Harry up on mornings like this, mornings where there was nowhere either one of them had to be. These were mornings for sleeping. And possibly other things later, but always sleeping first. Louis knew he never slept as well when Harry was gone, and that was when he got to keep his own bed. Harry sleeping in hotel rooms every night or even on the tour bus on top of everything else couldn’t be fun, even if Harry never wanted to complain.

Harry began to stir around the time the sunlight coming into the room was getting more insistent on being noticed. Squares of light fell across the end of the bed through the curtains. A cat’s tail peeked out from underneath them, the only hint that the animal was perched on the window sill. He would sit there all morning, only leaving his perch once he knew it was time to be fed.

“Good morning,” Louis whispered as Harry’s eyelids began to flutter. Despite having been awake, his voice cracked from disuse.

Almost immediately there was a slight smile on Harry’s face. “Morning,” Harry echoed back. His voice was quieter, like it was harder for him to clear the fog in his mind and get the sentiment out.

After a few seconds, Harry had managed to mostly rub the sleep out of his eyes, and he looked up at Louis, now perched above him.

“Wha’ time‘s it?” Harry asked, stretching his arms out above his head and almost hitting the headboard.

Louis took a glance over at the clock that he hadn’t bothered to look at since waking up. “Bit after ten.”

Harry hummed in acknowledgment. He’d let his eyes fall shut again, and Louis prodded his stomach. He may have had a policy of letting Harry sleep as long as he wanted, but once Harry was awake, there should be no more eye closing.

“‘M awake,” Harry assured him unconvincingly.

Louis was determined not to lose to sleep. He pushed himself up to a sitting position and then maneuvered himself until he was straddling Harry’s waist. It worked. Harry’s eyes opened again as soon as he realized Louis was moving to sit up. His hands came to grip Louis’ hips without much thought. He watched Louis curiously, looking awake now that a grin graced his features.

Leaning down so that his face was little more than an inch from Harry’s, Louis said, “I want some breakfast.”

Harry pinched one of his sides, and Louis squirmed away from the touch, almost toppling off of Harry. And probably the bed if he made it that far. Harry’s grip on him tightened until he’d righted himself, and Louis smiled as he looked back down at his boyfriend.

“First last night and now this morning,” Harry whined. “I’m starting to think you’re only dating me to get food.”

“Not just food.” Louis smirked. “Other things too. Food’s just the most important.”

That time it was Harry who half-heartedly acted like he would send Louis toppling over the edge, but Louis didn’t react much at all. Harry would never let him fall. And if his shove did result in an accidental fall, Louis would be dealing with an apologetic Harry for the next week, not a bad prospect all things considered. Maybe he should let himself topple off the bed one day, just to see what would happen.

“We still have eggs,” Louis reminded Harry. “And I think some ham. That’s the last of the meat in the fridge last I checked.”

“It expired five days ago,” Harry informed him, nose wrinkled in disgust. “Checked it last night.”

“Oh.” Louis tried to remember if he’d eaten any of it less than five days ago. He thought he had, but he wasn’t sure. Not like it mattered much anymore. The ham was gone, and he hadn’t gotten sick. Score one for Louis’ immune system. “Well, eggs then.”

“Eggs,” Harry agreed. “I’ll go shopping and get some groceries later today. Tomorrow we can have a proper breakfast. No expired ham.”

Louis pushed himself back up, getting off Harry to allow him to climb out of bed and slip on a pair of sweatpants over his boxers.

“No,” Louis whined. “It’s your first day back. No grocery shopping. That can wait until tomorrow.”

Harry sighed. He looked like he regretted something despite having woken up only five minutes before.

“It can’t,” he insisted. “There’s nothing left in that freezer, Louis.”

Louis pouted. He knew he was laying it on thick. Most days he would have considered this too much, but Harry had just gotten back last night. There was no such thing as too much right now. Louis would deal out all the theatrics in the world.

“You’ve got a break from tour and recording. I don’t have anything today either. How often does that happen? Who needs groceries when we can lay around the house all day and spend time together?”

His plan was working. It usually did. Everything he’d said was the complete truth, and he knew Harry longed for a day of nothing but spending time in each other’s presence as much as Louis did.

“We can order food,” Louis continued. “Eating and not leaving the house. Best of both worlds.”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “What happened to eating healthier now that I’m home?”

“Tomorrow,” Louis insisted. “Or I’ll order the healthiest thing on the menu. I don’t know. Please, Haz.”

Harry sighed. “You know I’m going to say yes.”

Louis let out a cheer, pushing himself up on his knees. Even up on the mattress like this, Harry was taller than him. Harry took a step closer, lining up their bodies. His hands found their way back to Louis’ hips, and Louis sunk into Harry, still relishing having him close. They stood there in silence for several moments, enjoying each other’s presence. Then, Louis spoke.

“I guess you’d shoot down pizza for dinner?”

Harry scoffed, pulling away and pretending to be annoyed. Louis smiled, sitting back on the bed as he watched Harry head out the bedroom door and towards the kitchen to get started on their eggs.

XXX

Their precious, little period of domesticity was destined to come to an end as quickly as it had started.

The first interruption came in the form of a match that took Louis away from Manchester. It had been established early on that Harry wouldn’t come to most matches. That might get people suspicious, and a vocal group of their fans (who liked to refer to themselves as Larry shippers) were already suspicious enough as it was. Every time Harry went to a match, their teams got nervous watching the group going on about Louis and Harry’s love all over the Internet.

At first, it had freaked Louis out too as he was scared it would lead to a real outing that he wasn’t prepared for, but several years later, that hadn’t happened yet. These days he found the fans’ enthusiasm endearing more than anything else. It was kind of nice to know they had his and Harry’s backs and would continue to do so if they came out. It left Louis feeling more confident about the future than he would have otherwise.

But this match wouldn’t receive any of those fun comments on social media. Harry had grasped onto the opportunity of Louis being away to plan a quick trip to London, one of those usual ones that let people know where he was. In the past, they never would have planned one during one of Louis’ games. It opened up the potential for rumors that Harry was doing exactly what he was doing: going to London just while Louis was away and then going right back home again once Louis was back in Manchester.

By now though, Harry’s team was granting him more freedom to choose his own visits to London, and Harry didn’t have the same wariness about the idea as his team. “I have to exist somewhere during the match. Why not exist in London?” he’d said. “Besides, being out and about means I’m not watching your match. Travesty for me personally, but that might be good evidence for why we’re not a couple, right?”

Maybe it would, maybe it wouldn’t. Louis had given up on the idea that there was a right way or a wrong way to stay in the closet. Some people would believe he was gay no matter how hard he worked to hide it. Others would stay convinced he was straight no matter how many slip ups he had. Louis had come to accept that as long as he didn’t flat out say the words, “I’m gay,” or get caught with Harry, he’d be okay. It had been a huge relief when he’d had that realization. Especially since they were more careful not to get caught now than they had been before the Wellington fiasco.

So there Louis was in some English town he never would have been in if it weren’t for football (if he was being honest), and Harry was in London. He was used to the separation, but there was always an adjustment period right as it started again.

It helped that this was for a match. He wasn’t in Manchester and going home every night to a house devoid of Harry. If he wanted, he could pretend like Harry was still back home waiting for his return. For some reason, that made it easier. That wasn’t like Harry waiting for their reunion in London.

But the only time Louis got to sit still and think about Harry was at night when he was supposed to be sleeping. During the day, he had more than enough to fill up his thoughts. The last thing he needed was to allow himself to become distracted. That wasn’t how he had managed the success he’d had over the years. During the day, everything was about football and nothing else could matter.

It wasn’t until after the match that Louis allowed himself to slow down enough to think about the other areas of his life. He hadn’t talked to Harry for a whole twenty-four hours, something that his boyfriend knew to expect. Louis had a one-track mind on game days. He also hadn’t so much as opened his phone, using it as a clock and nothing more.

They’d won, a feat that still managed to be surprising no matter what their odds were for any particular match. Adrenaline coursed through Louis’ veins, and he had every intention of riding the high for as long as possible. He scrolled through his Twitter feed, excitement only increasing as he saw the tweets praising his performance on the field. Moments like this were the only time where Louis successfully put on blinders to block out the hate. He knew it was there too—particularly from supporters of the other team—but it was easy to ignore.

Louis had expected the Twitter spree to consist of replying to some fans about the game or, if not that, something rather pointless. He hadn’t been expecting to see paparazzi photos of Harry on his timeline. Maybe he should have since his most vocal fans were ones who enjoyed replying to Harry at least as often as they enjoyed replying to him.

See, the thing was, Louis and Harry had an agreement. They never searched for any pictures taken for the tabloids. They didn’t search out tabloid articles. They didn’t open tabloids. If the picture was shoved at them, say in the form of Twitter replies, or a headline blared at them in the store check out, then there wasn’t much to be done. They didn’t have to close their eyes and back away, but they didn’t search anything out. They’d decided that early on. They didn’t search for themselves, and they didn’t search for each other. It was healthier that way. It kept them sane.

Harry’s picture showing up on Louis’ Twitter feed wasn’t breaking that agreement. Louis wasn't doing anything wrong, and honestly, if he did search out some tabloid article for whatever reason, Harry would only ever be angry if Louis had lost his mind and believed it was true. Looking at one picture wasn’t a big deal in the grand scheme of things. Louis had done worse.

The agreement that Louis wouldn’t look at paparazzi photos of Harry was far more for Louis than it was Harry though. Seeing photos of Harry taken out of context, seeing tabloids create stories out of thin air just because they knew what would make money. It made Louis angry, even angrier than he was when he saw stories of himself. Maybe that was because tabloids ran far fewer stories on football players than they did boyband members. Maybe it was because Harry’s stories were almost always outrageous to a degree that Louis’ rarely reached. Maybe it was just because Louis felt protective of Harry in a way that he never bothered to worry about himself. Whatever the reason, Louis got really fucking pissed when he inadvertently stumbled upon articles written about Harry.

These weren’t articles. They were just pictures. What Louis was seeing was at least. There had to be an article somewhere. There always was. The all caps comments only gave him bits and pieces of the story. Some were trying to prod Louis into tweeting about how attractive Harry was (true, yes, but he wasn’t stupid enough to fall for that), and some were freaking out themselves, looking to Louis for reassurance that he couldn’t give them.

In another world, he would have been able to. Louis knew the girl in those photos. He’d been introduced to her several times as one of Harry’s friends. They’d known each other for a while. Nothing about their relationship was romantic, and even in the photos that were surely being used to spin that narrative, they were stood a good ten feet apart. These weren’t photographs that implied infatuation to anyone. Unless you were a tabloid or one of the mindless readers who couldn’t take a step back to analyze reality.

This wasn’t a planned bearding or PR excursion, not unless one had been shoved on Harry at the last minute. Harry always warned Louis about those, and while Harry had gotten more control over certain aspects of his image lately, the girls chosen for those roles weren’t typically girls Harry had met before. The odds of his team spinning a story using a longtime friend of Harry’s was slim. This was accidental.

Accidental in the sense that it wasn’t planned. Harry had to have known it would happen as soon as the cameras started flashing. He couldn’t stand within a few feet of girls without having sex with them as far as the tabloids were concerned. Louis wasn’t sure if that or the planned bearding made him more angry.

Louis closed Twitter, not able to focus on the congratulatory tweets he had been seeking out. He swiped across the screen until he could click on his messages icon. His conversation with Harry was the first one to come up. He re-read it. The message Harry had sent congratulating Louis on his win and talking about how proud he was of him, the equally cheesy text Louis had sent back. Harry didn’t appear upset, but then again, Harry was far better at disguising his emotions through text than he was in person.

Louis felt antsy. He would never know if the new story was bothering Harry until he saw his face. That wouldn’t happen for hours. All the while, Harry probably was fine or as fine as he could be. This had become too routine for it to bother Harry every time, yet it continued to worry Louis.

That was why they weren’t supposed to look at tabloids.

Louis’ thumbs hovered over the keyboard of his phone for several moments as he imagined the various ways he could have prodded Harry about this and have him answer truthfully. Something that would make sure Harry knew what Louis was referencing but something that didn’t feel like Louis was trying to bring Harry down. He couldn’t do it. Instead, he sent another I love you with a kissy face emoji. That was enough.

It took more than fifteen minutes for Harry to respond with another kissy face emoji and an I love you. This wasn’t abnormal for them. While Louis would have steadfastly maintained to others that exchanges like this weren’t their norm and would have been telling the truth, it wasn’t unheard of either. Sometimes Louis just wanted to be cheesy, and Harry was more than happy to play along. Nothing about this showed Harry that Louis had seen the pictures, but Louis was okay with that. Not in the sense that he needed to hide it, but just in the sense that it was far more important for him to shower Harry with affection than to bring up something that could bring him down when he was fine.

When will you be home? Harry messaged him next.

Louis bit his lip, fighting against a grin. Harry knew the answer to that question. He always did. This was his way of transitioning to the part of the conversation where they talked about how much they missed each other and how they couldn’t wait to be back at home.

Be back after midnight.

Louis had given up trying to fight the smile on his face by the time Harry’s frowning emoji arrived. The message that’s too long quickly followed.

I know love. Outta London already?

He’d been expecting Harry to spend the night at the house in London and drive up tomorrow. It didn’t seem worth it to leave when Louis would get home only to collapse on the bed and sleep until morning.

Left 5 hours ago. Not been back long.

Louis’ stomach felt fuzzy, a sensation that he shouldn’t still be experiencing at this point in their relationship. Weren’t things supposed to start feeling old at some point? Less thrilling? It was nice to know that Harry was still craving being able to sleep in each other’s arms and not in cold beds. Even a few hours of sleep in the same bed was enough for Harry to make the drive from London to Manchester earlier than he’d planned.

Bought groceries btw, Harry’s messages continued. We were low.

Louis smiled. Harry had been complaining about that very thing right before they had left the city. They’d been out of some sort of vegetable (Louis couldn’t remember which.) that Harry had been wanting to fix with dinner. He dug through their canned goods and come up empty-handed. Moments like that were the only thing that reminded Harry to go grocery shopping, although—with the way he went on about it sometimes—one would think that he remembered to do it with more regularity.

Louis made sure to send a message that consisted of nothing except the pizza emoji, and he giggled to himself at Harry’s quick reply with the steaming face emoji. Louis could picture a remarkably similar expression on Harry’s face as he typed. He could also imagine Harry deciding to order a pizza for dinner tomorrow and then eating it with just as much gusto as Louis himself.

They continued to talk as the time until their reunion dragged on and on. Finally, the Manchester skyline came into view. Louis’ eyes were hardly open when he noticed it through the windshield. Everything was eerily quiet. He’d switched off his music half an hour ago through frustration that he wasn’t hearing anything that he wanted to hear, and his driver was one of those who tried to be professional by never speaking to his clients. That or he just hated people and/or Louis. Louis had never been able to tell.

Either way, he was itching more than ever to get home and collapse in the bed that Harry already occupied. It felt like ages since he had last done so, with his body not easily convinced that it had actually been the night before last.

Their house was on the outskirts of the city, removed enough from the hustle and bustle of Manchester that they were afforded some level of privacy. Louis offered the driver a tired wave as he snagged his bag out of the car and hurried into the house. Harry had left a trail of lights on for him, so he wouldn’t have to stumble through the dark to reach their room. A tired smile appeared on his face despite his exhaustion.

He followed the trail, flipping off the lights as he went. The dog scurried around at his feet, going ignored except for a few pats on the head. Thankfully, the animal was quiet, not keen to bark in the middle of the night once he had ascertained that Louis wasn’t an intruder.

The door to their room was halfway open, and Louis could see the soft, warm light emanating from it. He pushed it open, stomach fluttering at the sight of Harry snuggled under the covers with the cat curled into his side. As soon as he heard the door creak, Harry glanced away from the phone he was holding up to his face and looked over at Louis with a grin.

“Hi, Lou,” he greeted in a groggy voice. It sounded like he’d been ready to sleep for a long time, yet he was still awake, waiting for Louis. There were more butterflies in Louis’ stomach. He started stripping down to his boxers right there, not bothering to take care of any other part of his usual nightly routine. He crawled into bed, displacing the very displeased cat, who made due with a safe spot at the end of the bed.

Underneath the covers, it was already warm. Louis snuggled into Harry’s side and pressed his face into his chest. Harry’s warmth was different than any other type of warmth. Not even the heat of the summer sun could compare. Harry was comforting, and Louis could be soothed to sleep by the feel of Harry’s breathing and heartbeat beneath him.

He was asleep within minutes, not even sure whether the last of Harry’s trail of lights had been turned off.

XXX

Louis’ brow was furrowed so deeply that he might have been worried about wrinkles if he’d been vainer and less consumed with what was unfolding on the television screen. It was the tenth time he’d watched the play unfold, and he was still as baffled at the brilliance of it as he had been the first time. How could the team ranked last in the league pull off something like that during their last match before playing United?

If there was a god, he hated Louis because he was making it impossible for Louis to sleep for the next several days. All Louis could do was obsess over the clips of the game he’d been sent from his coach. He was going to have to work hard in practice. That much was clear. Any slacking before this match was over was sure to get Louis yelled at to an extent that wasn’t typical.

Somewhere in the back of Louis’ mind were the rational thoughts that tried to remind him that this team was still last in the league; it was just one lucky play. Those thoughts weren’t successfully drowning out the part of Louis’ mind that wanted to go outside and start kicking the ball around to feel like he was doing something to prepare himself.

Beside him, Harry clicked around on his laptop, not paying attention to the clip Louis kept replaying on the television. They had planned to spend a lazy day together, and there Louis was obsessing over a stupid clip that was work-related. He felt terrible.

Harry glanced over at him in curiosity as soon as the TV switched off. Louis pressed himself closer into Harry’s side, hooking his chin over his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Whatcha doin’?” Louis asked, inspecting the screen.

It was open to a Word document that had the typing equivalent of scribbles all over it.

“Are those song lyrics?” Louis asked, still trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

“One day they will be,” Harry answered, frowning at the words. “Hopefully.”

Louis smiled, leaning in to place a light kiss on Harry’s cheek.

“It will be, love. Your songs always come together in the end.”

“Not always,” Harry said with a sigh. “Plenty end up scrapped. You just think I’m more successful than I am because you remember the good ones.”

Louis hated when Harry got negative like this. Harry Styles should never feel like he was inadequate. He was the most adequate person Louis knew, and Louis knew a lot of people. None of them measured up to Harry.

“Maybe,” he allowed. Harry always responded better when Louis humored him a bit at first. “But a lot of those good ones became hits.”

Harry’s cheeks flushed a light pink. That was a sign that Louis’ plan was working.

“I guess,” Harry said noncommittally. It was as good of an answer as Louis was going to get.

His eyes scanned over what Harry had so far. It was true that it was nothing incredible. In all honesty, Louis couldn’t imagine anyone singing it. Not yet. But he did think there was potential there. A few of the lyrics stood out as being salvageable, but maybe Louis was biased. Harry was always his biggest weakness. If Harry had written “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star”, Louis would have declared it a musical masterpiece.

“What’s it about?” Louis asked. He was always fascinated to hear Harry talk about the inspiration for his songs. The real inspiration, not the vague half truths that he would share with the public once the songs were released. And Louis’ interest only partially came from the fact that he was often the source of the inspiration. It was always thrilling when Harry shared with Louis for the first time another song that he had written about their relationship. Those were the moments where he remembered more than ever that he was dating a musician.

Harry sighed and ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He was quiet for a moment, putting his thoughts on the song into words within his own head.

“It’s about love. I think,” Harry said slowly. “That’s the problem. I’m not sure what kind of love yet.”

Louis lifted his chin off of Harry’s shoulder so that he could look Harry in the eyes with more ease.

“What do you mean which kind of love?”

Harry reached out, taking one of Louis’ hands into his own.

“Like, there’s romantic love, right? And it’s amazing and wonderful, and god, I love writing songs about how amazing you are, Lou.” Louis tried to ignore the way his heart sped up and keep focusing on what Harry was saying. “But there are other kinds of love too, and I think that maybe I don’t write about them enough. I love Niall. I love Liam. I love my mum and Gemma. And my dad. Lots of people, but I don’t write songs about them. Niall wrote that one song on the last album that he said was about how much he loves me and Liam. It made me think. I love them too, but I haven’t written them a song. I want to.”

Louis did not feel emotional. Louis swore he didn’t feel emotional. Except, well, his boyfriend was upset because someone had written a song for him, and he wanted to write a song for them too, but he was struggling. And Harry was having such a hard time with this song because he wanted it to be perfect for Niall and Liam. Louis could see that, and it made his insides feel warm and fuzzy. Harry might as well have been writing the song for him.

“You’ll get something,” Louis reassured him with complete confidence. “You always manage in the end. One day it’ll hit you, all the things you love about the boys. It’ll probably happen when you’re on the tour bus or on stage. It’ll all wash over you at once, and then you’ll know exactly what you want to say to them.”

“To them,” Harry echoed. “Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I should think about addressing them directly through the song.” He mumbled some of his written lyrics under his breath as if testing the weight of them. “These don’t sound like that. That’s what I need.”

Louis wasn’t sure how he’d managed to help Harry have a breakthrough. He’d wanted to be encouraging, of course, but Louis had never written songs and couldn’t consider himself an expert. The fact that he’d stumbled across the right answer came more out of watching Harry’s writing process over the years than anything else.

Harry’s fingers flew across the keys, writing lyric after lyric. Louis read them as he went. Half or more of these lyrics would be scrapped by the end of the day. Even more would be lost to the abyss after that. But Louis could still see that Harry’s sense of the song was strengthening into something greater than what he’d had before.

Time flew by as Harry wrote. Louis found it relaxing to watch him work. No one else could have held his attention like this, but Harry did it without even realizing it. They were supposed to be spending time with each other, but for some reason, this didn’t feel like a violation of that. Writing music was a time when Harry exposed himself, and watching it happen always left Louis feeling special, like he was privileged for getting to witness the process. So few people did. The majority of Harry’s song writing happened when he was on his own. Even when he collaborated with others, Harry’s real breakthrough moments always happened when he was working alone and shared what he’d achieved with the other writers later on.

Harry’s inspiration just flowed better when he could sit quietly and think about it himself.

Finally, Harry had gotten out everything he could for the night. He leaned back into the couch and pushed the laptop forward on his lap. The way he had been hunching closer to the screen as he wrote seemed to have been subconscious, and Harry blinked a few times as if adjusting his eyes to being away from the computer screen.

“That looks like an amazing start,” Louis commented. It was the first time he’d felt like he could talk since Harry had started going at it. He never wanted to interrupt and ruin the progress Harry was making with a song. It was best to let the process run its course and let Harry come out of it on his own.

“It’s not bad,” Harry commented, ever modest. Of course, he would still be seeing the flaws of what he had written. That was his job. He had a responsibility to nitpick and make sure the song was as close to perfection as possible. It was Louis’ job to marvel over how great it already sounded and build up Harry’s confidence so that he could keep chugging along.

Harry closed the laptop and sat it down on the coffee table. With a long groan, he stretched and sank further into the couch, closing his eyes for a few seconds before opening them again to look at Louis.

Reaching out, Harry took one of Louis’ hands in his own and began to play with it absentmindedly. Louis smiled, feeling a tingling sensation radiating up his arm from where Harry was running his fingers along his skin. Lazy moments like these, where they sat there touching in small ways, were some of the best moments. The fragility they held made them all the more precious, and the slowness of it was a nice break from their otherwise hectic and demanding lives.

Any opportunity to sit in Harry’s presence while not doing much of anything allowed Louis to feel normal. As close to normal as he’d ever felt. Back when he was nothing more than a professional football player, he’d been able to manage it. Sure, he’d had fame to a limited extent, but he’d still managed to go around Manchester with relative freedom.

That all changed when he started dating Harry. It was strange, considering the public didn’t know that he and Harry were dating. Somehow, just being in the presence of a member of the world’s biggest boyband and letting the world know you were friends was enough to boost someone’s level of fame up several levels. Louis had never intended for that to happen. Actually, he hadn’t particularly wanted it to happen. It made staying in the closet a million times harder than it already had been.

It had made everything harder, yet Harry had proven time and time again that he was worth every second of it. Louis dealt with being in the tabloids and having shit said about him that no one would have bothered with otherwise because that’s what it took to have Harry in his life. Louis knew that, and he had accepted it. But he still appreciated these moments where they could forget the fact that they were famous. He still wished, however fleetingly, that this could be their whole lives.

If there was a way for Harry to sing in stadiums and Louis to play in stadiums and for the two of them to be together yet feel normal the rest of the time, Louis would take it in a heartbeat, and he thought Harry would too.

There were things to appreciate about being a celebrity, but not even those could stop Louis from wishing there was an on and off switch. Still, he’d give one to Harry before he’d take one for himself.

“Louis,” Harry said quietly, breaking Louis out of the thoughtful trance he had been locked inside of. Harry’s voice was soft and hesitant, not a tone he used often with Louis, and that caught his attention.

He hummed in acknowledgment, switching their hands over so he could trail his fingers up Harry’s arm. He felt Harry shiver and watched as the goose pimples rose up along his skin, causing Louis to smile. Harry hesitated over saying anything more. Louis kept his attention on Harry but didn’t press him to speak, not eager enough for their silence to be broken.

“I want to talk about something important.”

The combination of the words and Harry’s worried tone was enough to cause Louis to pause. He inspected Harry’s face for signs of alarm. Harry sensed this and tugged Louis impossibly closer to his side.

“What is it?” Louis asked, trying to swallow his fear and take comfort in the way Harry squeezed him tightly.

When Harry did manage to make himself say it, it was in a rush, as if he was worried he would chicken out in the middle of speaking.

“I want to come out.”

The breath left Louis’ lungs, but he didn’t notice that he’d lost the ability to breathe. All he could do was stare at Harry in shock.

It shouldn’t have been surprising. They’d talked about one day coming out, but it had always been in terms of the distant future, not the present. Yes, Louis had noticed Harry knocking more and more on the closet door as time went on, but they still hadn’t sat down and had a conversation about making plans to do it. Louis guessed that this was that conversation.

“Come out?” he said, as if he had never heard the words and was unsure of their meaning. “You want to…?”

Harry nodded. The frown lines in his forehead deepened as he stared down at Louis with concern. Louis forced in a sharp breath, making a panicked-sounding noise. He knew this wasn’t the ideal reaction Harry had been looking for, but Louis wasn’t sure what else he could say. His brain was having trouble working on that.

“I’m not asking you to come out,” Harry continued. His voice held an urgency and a need for Louis to understand. And Louis was trying, trying with all of his might. It was difficult to do. “I would never make you come out before you’re ready. But I’m ready, and I really think—no, I know—I need to do it.”

Louis’ eyes were wide as he stared up at Harry.

“Now?” he questioned, still not able to process what was happening. “You want to come out now?”

“Not in the next five seconds.” Harry tried to grin at the poor attempt at a joke, but after one look at Louis’ lack of a reaction, the grin slipped from his face. “Louis, I can’t keep lying to people. It’s killing me. I know coming out won’t be easy, but I think it’ll be freeing. It’ll get the weight off my chest. I’ll be happier.”

Louis knew that this wasn’t supposed to be an attack on him, an attack on his wanting to stay closeted. Yet with the high of anxiety and other terrible emotions that Louis was feeling, it felt like one. He couldn’t stop himself from snapping at Harry.

“So you’re going to be all Mr. High-and-Mighty just because you have the courage to do it now and I don’t.”

Louis regretted the words the second they were out of his mouth and he could see the stricken look on Harry’s face. Never before had Louis attacked Harry so directly and with ammunition that was so hurtful. He knew. Louis knew that Harry wasn’t trying to hurt him, that this decision really was all about him making peace with himself and not him judging Louis. So Louis didn’t understand why he had felt the need to make it seem like it was something that it wasn’t.

“I didn’t mean it,” Louis rushed to add, but the damage had already been done. Harry looked hurt and betrayed. The look on his face said it all. He’d never imagined Louis being able to stoop so low, and now that he had, his entire image of Louis had been cracked, if not shattered all together. Louis had screwed up.

“I didn’t,” he continued to insist. Harry wasn’t speaking, just staring at Louis in horror. “I didn’t mean it at all. You caught me off guard, and I said shit because I was panicking, but I didn’t mean it. I swear. I swear, Harry. I swear to god. I didn’t mean it.”

Harry tried to swallow the lump forming in his throat. “I believe you,” he choked out unconvincingly. His facial expression hadn’t changed. He looked as horrified as he had when the words first came out of Louis’ mouth.

“Haz.” Louis felt desperate, so desperate, to make Harry understand him. He climbed onto Harry’s lap and took his face in his hands. Harry opened his arms to make room, wrapping them firmly around Louis to steady him. At least that hadn’t changed. Yet.

“I didn’t mean it,” Louis said again. Some irrational part of his brain was convinced that, if he just said it enough, Harry would believe it. Really believe it, not just claim that he believed it to appease Louis.

Harry tried to smile, but it was such a pathetic attempt that it only made Louis feel more desperate. He dropped his hands from Harry’s face and wrapped his arms around him instead, burying his face into Harry’s shoulder. It was warm here. He could sit for a while and forget what had happened. Harry’s arms tightened around him, and Louis squeezed his eyes shut, taking in the feeling of Harry and nothing else.

Harry’s hand ran up and down Louis’ back like it always did when Louis was even the slightest bit upset. It made Louis shiver, but then he remembered why he was upset. Harry. He had hurt Harry, and Harry was the one comforting him.

Louis pulled back, his hands coming to rest at Harry’s sides instead of being wrapped around him. Harry’s hands mimicked his, coming to rest on Louis’ hips. He squeezed them gently in a move that was so familiar.

Harry’s face wasn’t as hurt as it had been before. Louis could almost forget except for the memory that was burnt into his mind. Louis reached out to brush a hand through Harry’s hair. Harry leaned into the touch, closing his eyes like a cat being petted. Louis’ heart always stuttered when he did that.

“You want to come out,” Louis clarified, trying to approach the topic calmly, but his voice trembled as if he were close to tears.

“I do,” Harry confirmed, his own voice sounding as shaky as Louis’.

And Louis hated that. There should never have been a time when Harry worried about telling Louis how he felt. Ever. Making Harry scared to open himself up to him was the most Louis had ever screwed up.

“I’m happy for you,” Louis said. He hoped beyond all hope that Harry could hear how genuine that sentiment was. Louis was still scared out of his mind, but he was happy for Harry. He just wished he was capable of being on the same page.

Harry seemed to get that too. He didn’t look as pained as he had after Louis’ initial reaction, but he was looking downward, tracing designs on Louis’ thigh.

“But you’re not.”

And with those words Harry had gotten them to the root of the problem and what was really wrong.

“I’m not. I wish I was, but I’m not.”

Harry nodded, bringing his eyes up to look at Louis.

“That’s okay.”

No matter how much Harry wanted to mean that, it wasn’t okay. Louis could detect the disappointment in Harry’s words. Harry wasn’t just ready for himself to be out. He was ready for them to be out together, and Louis hadn’t only crushed that dream, he’d pummelled it into the ground.

Louis leaned forward to bury his face in Harry’s shoulder again.

“I want to be ready.” The tears were close to breaking free, and Louis was losing his willpower to stop them. “I want to be out. With you. And for everyone to know about us and to be able to show everyone how much I’m in love with you. I want all of that so much it hurts. But when I think about actually doing it…”

The first tears fell onto Harry’s shirt. From the sound of Harry’s sniffling, he was having trouble keeping his own tears under control as he gripped onto Louis tightly.

“I know,” Harry whispered into Louis’ hair. “I know because I felt that way too, remember? I understand.”

“But you don’t feel that way anymore.” Louis pulled back to look at Harry’s face. “It’s different for you now. How? How did you realize that you were ready?”

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know. I think it might have been a gradual change that I didn’t notice happening. All I know is that as soon as my management told me that they’d start making it happen anytime I wanted, I realized I did want it. Before it didn’t matter because the issue was out of my hands. I couldn’t break the contract, but with the new contract, I’m in control. And something about that felt liberating. It made me realize that I do want to do it. To tell the truth. Let everyone know me, all of me.”

Louis wanted that too. He wanted everything Harry had described. He just didn’t want to go for it the way Harry did. When he laid awake at night unable to sleep, Louis’ thoughts always drifted to an ideal future where he and Harry were out, married, and parents to a varying number of children. That was what Louis had wanted more than anything for years.

What he didn’t want was what had to come between now and that future: the actual coming out, the backlash that was sure to follow. Louis coming out would be a big deal, a huge deal. It would make all the papers, and it wouldn’t be because Harry’s name was attached to it too. Louis knew that a current boyband member coming out would be huge, but it was different.

It wasn’t like Louis liked stereotypes, but they made a difference in this case. People weren’t going to react to a boyband member being gay the same way they would a current Manchester United player. They just wouldn’t. Louis could picture the angry men calling him gay slurs from the stands. It already happened on rare occasions because of the speculation that had circulated over the course of Louis’ career. He didn’t know if he could take it once he came out.

He didn’t typically voice those fears to Harry. Harry had always been fearless about expressing himself even in the days before he was ready to come out. Louis didn’t think Harry could understand even though he knew. He knew how much it scared Louis. He’d been there to pick Louis up after every gay slur sent his way.

And Harry got it now. His thumbs rubbed circles against Louis’ skin as he watched him, sadness in his eyes.

“I know I’d be doing something brave,” Louis said, voice breaking. “An openly gay player currently playing in the Premier League.” He drew in a sharp breath at the thought. “That would be huge, especially to a lot of kids. I know that. I wish I could be that person, that role model. But I don’t know if I could handle it.”

Harry gave Louis a few seconds to calm himself down, encouraging him to deep breaths.

“You shouldn’t have to be a role model,” Harry said quietly. “You shouldn’t have to come out in the first place. We should both be able to be who we are and be done with it. You and I both know that.” He paused, glancing nervously over Louis’ shoulder at the opposite wall. “But we can’t, and you and I both know that too. We don’t have the option to just be ourselves. It’s either lie or come out. If we ever want to live our lives, we’re going to have to do it.”

“I know.” Louis reached up to wipe tears from his eyes. “And I do want that. I just... “

He and Harry watched each other, neither saying anything. After a few minutes, Harry sighed, shoulders sagging in what seemed a lot like defeat.

“How about this? We can sit on it. Talk about it later. Would that be okay?”

Louis nodded, glad to be finished with the conversation. But he didn’t think time would change his thoughts much, at least not the short amount of time Harry was asking for.

XXX

True to what Louis had believed, not much changed over the next several months. Nothing with Louis that was. Harry was straining against the closet door more and more as time wore on. He was getting impatient with the lies and concealment. Louis watched it happen with an increasing fear that their wants and needs would be too irreconcilable to make things work.

Harry didn’t bring up the idea of coming out again. It was like he sensed that it wouldn’t go over well with Louis. He already knew what the potential response would be, and he didn’t want to put either one of them through the same conversation they had already had. If anything were going to happen, it would be Louis’ move when he was ready. That or when Harry got tired of waiting and left him.

Sometimes Louis thought about telling Harry to do it on his own. He could come out, and Louis would follow when he was ready. Except he couldn’t bring himself to do that. It was selfish—one of the most selfish things Louis had ever done, —but just the idea of Harry coming out filled him with fear. They were too close. Sure, they disguised a lot of their relationship, but they were still close friends in the eyes of the public. There had been enough rumors that Harry coming out was sure to shove Louis’ potential sexuality into the spotlight. And Louis wasn’t sure he could handle that.

So he stayed quiet and watched as it became harder and harder for Harry to act like he was satisfied with the situation. They’d complained about the lying, the beards, and the PR arrangements before. None of it had been something they enjoyed, but before, there had been an agreement that nothing could be done. Even if they had wanted to, Harry’s management had forbidden it and Louis’ might as well have with how little they approved. They were stuck in the closet no matter how much they wanted to bang on the door.

Now things were different. Harry was poised with his hand on the doorknob, and Louis was huddled in the corner. He and Harry couldn’t have those same conversations that they’d used to have. There was a new strain on their relationship that was unlike anything they had gone through in the past. When the opportunity was presented to him, Louis had realized that he wasn’t as eager to step out of the closet as he had thought he was.

During crises like this, Louis was accustomed to going to Harry for help, but he couldn’t do that this time. That left him desperate for another source of release, and that led him to Zayn’s. Zayn who was dependable purely because Louis always knew where to find him.

Zayn who Louis also didn’t see that much of, to be honest. There had always been this understanding that came along with their friendship. Louis could go without seeing Zayn for months at a time, but that didn’t mean anything bad with them. It was just how it was. If Zayn was in your life, he was sure to disappear. If you could call it disappearing, it wasn’t really because Zayn was always in the same place. He just didn’t bother to contact anyone to keep tabs on them. Louis was pretty sure Zayn could go a couple of weeks without seeing another human soul, especially since he and Perrie had called things off.

The break up was also why Louis was standing in front of an unfamiliar house. Perrie had kept the old one. She’d kept most of the animals too, which was one of the first things Louis remembered once he stepped inside and wasn’t met with the usual herd swarming around him. Zayn didn’t give him much of a greeting, just nodded and led Louis quietly into the house.

They sat down in the living room on a couch that actually was familiar. Zayn settled in beside Louis. He was still quiet, but Louis could see Zayn watching him closely. He’d been here five seconds, and Zayn was already trying to sort out what Louis was thinking.

“Is it that obvious that I feel off?” Louis asked abruptly.

Zayn didn’t look phased about being called out. He shrugged and leaned back against the couch. His eyes fell away from Louis as he reached over for a pack of cigarettes, offering Louis one and being declined.

Neither one of them said anything as Zayn took his time lighting the cigarette and taking a few drags.

“Liam was here last week,” Zayn said once he felt satisfied. “He mentioned something about you acting off. It was a small comment. Not like we gossiped about you, but he was worried, mate.”

Of course he was. For once, Louis would have liked to have friends who cared a bit less. That was why he came to Zayn. Half the time Louis had no idea if Zayn cared or not. Louis would answer differently depending on when he was asked. Sometimes he thought it was a facade, other times he wasn’t as sure. Louis thought there was a large possibility that Zayn was a heartless asshole and that was why he spent so little time around others. But Zayn was also one of his closest friends, so Louis preferred to think he did care at least a little.

They sat in silence for a long time. That was one thing about spending time with Zayn. The silence didn’t scare him the way it did most people, the way it did Louis. If you didn’t break it, Zayn would let it go on forever. Louis couldn’t do that. It felt like the silence was pressing in on him harder and harder until he had to say something.

“You make anything new?” he asked. Bringing up Zayn’s art was the best way to get him talking.

Zayn let out a puff of smoke. “I’m working on a commissioned piece. Looks cool if you want to see.”

Louis nodded, but neither one of them got up to look at whatever it was Zayn was making. There was no telling. From what little Louis knew about art, most artists specialized in one type of art. Zayn did too in that he did quite a bit of graffiti, but he also did more art that wasn’t graffiti than Louis would have expected. Then again, Louis knew nothing when it came to that sort of thing. 

Zayn did judging by how quickly he’d risen through the art scene. Despite what little he knew about it, Louis had been told that Zayn made a lot more money than most artists would have at this point in their career or, possibly, ever. Even if Zayn would shrug off the compliments by saying he was lucky (and plenty whispered about it coming from the various celebrity connections he’d managed to obtain), there had to be some talent behind it all. Louis knew he found Zayn’s stuff cool, even if he couldn’t talk about it with any more sophistication than that.

Today, Louis didn’t want to look at any art. A fact that Zayn was aware of as he continued to nurse his cigarette with a blank, uncaring look on his face. Something about Zayn’s expression felt like it was encouraging Louis to spill his soul. At times, Louis thought Zayn missed his calling as a therapist. All he would have to do was sit around like that until his clients opened up about everything.

“Harry wants to come out.”

Zayn took his time taking another drag of the cigarette.

“And you don’t.”

It was so matter-of-factly stated that Louis would have wondered if Zayn was inside his head if he hadn’t known that he was just that transparent.

“I want to be out. I don’t want to come out. I know that sounds ridiculous.”

Zayn shrugged. “Remember back when you refused to get any tattoos? You used to say shit about how, even if they looked cool, the pain wasn’t worth it. Now look at you.” He motioned at the tattoos that covered Louis’ skin. “At some point you decided it was worth it.”

“I-I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

There was no response from Zayn. Nothing at all.

“But I still don’t know if the pain of coming out is worth it.” For the first time, Zayn shot Louis a look that made Louis’ stomach twist in knots. “Right now, I mean. I know it will be eventually.”

“Eventually,” Zayn scoffed. “You keep saying that, and eventually will never come.”

For some reason, Zayn’s words set Louis’ blood boiling. It was ironic when Louis had been trying to convince himself of the same idea since Harry had first brought up the possibility of coming out. Hearing it from Zayn set off a far stronger reaction than Louis had felt when the sentiment came from inside himself.

“You have to be ready to come out,” Louis shot back. “You can’t do it like that.” He snapped his fingers for emphasis.

“But if you’re waiting for some cosmic sign to show you you’re ready, Lou, it’s not coming. I know football isn’t the ideal profession for a gay guy, but you know it’s extremely unlikely something truly bad will happen to you. Some bad comments are guaranteed. I wouldn’t be surprised if some people threaten violence, but you have security and all of that. I’d take you seriously if I thought that’s what was worrying you, but I don’t think it is.

“I think you’re worried about what people will say. Just words, Louis. That’s what you’re scared of, and you’ll have to make a conscious decision not to let those hurt you anymore.”

“What are you saying, Zayn?”

“That you need to stop being such a coward. Suck it up and do it. Otherwise, Harry’s going to dump you eventually. You and I both know the guy isn’t going to stick around forever if you force him to keep hiding away. The guy won’t be able to take that forever. And when he can’t, then what, Louis? You just let him leave because you’re too scared?”

Anger circulated through Louis’ bloodstream, making his temperature rise. His ears rang loud enough to obscure Zayn’s words.

“Fuck you.”

Zayn looked oddly satisfied to hear the insult.

“So now you have balls, Louis? You can insult one of your best mates, but you can’t tell the world you’re gay. You’re just going to hide like you’re ashamed of yourself. Like you’re ashamed of Harry.”

Louis struggled to control his rage. He pushed himself off the couch, clenching his fists as he glared down at Zayn. It was nearly impossible to stop himself from doing something he would regret.

“Fuck. You. Zayn. I’m not ashamed of Harry, and you fucking know that.”

“Do I?” Zayn looked and sounded calm, which only amplified Louis’ anger. He lounged on the couch as if he was a spoiled prince and Louis was some dirty subject who had come to beg, yet all Zayn was willing to do was laugh. “You sure are hiding him like he’s some dirty, little secret.”

A strangled growl escaped Louis’ throat, causing Zayn to smirk. Louis glared down at him. So close. He was so close to punching Zayn in his smug, little face.

Zayn brought his cigarette up to his lips one last time before snuffing it out in the ashtray that rested on the table beside him.

“You can take everything you’re feeling out on me if you want, Louis, but it won’t solve anything. You know what would solve your problem. The question is if you’re going to do something about it or keep pretending like it’s other people that have the problem.”

Louis began backing away, amazingly not tripping over anything despite not paying the least bit of attention to where he was going. He couldn’t stay here, not unless he wanted to fight Zayn.

Zayn watched him with amusement, and Louis forced himself to turn away, hurrying out the door and to his car.

It was reckless for him to drive while the tears stung his eyes. His vision never became completely obscured, but it was compromised. He took deep breaths as he drove, trying to keep himself calm enough that he would stop speeding up without realizing it.

By the time he made it home, he was wound up so tightly that his entire body ached. How had Zayn messed him up this badly? Louis had known going into it that Zayn wouldn’t sugarcoat things. He would tell Louis the truth. But Louis hadn’t expected what he had gotten.

Harry was gone. The dog jumping against his legs was the only sign of life when Louis entered the house. He brushed the dog aside callously, not in the mood for the eager attention the dog was showering on him. At the moment, Louis was struggling to remember why they’d wanted the damn dog in the first place. It was nothing but a nuisance. Harry had been hesitant about getting a dog in the beginning, saying a cat would be a better choice. Louis, who had always been more of a dog person, had begged for a dog instead. Their compromise had been getting one of each.

Louis was a fucking idiot who made the worst decisions of anyone alive. He shouldn’t be considered an adult. Who gave him a shit ton of money and the freedom to do whatever he wanted with it? The only reason this house was livable was because of Harry. Louis would be kidding himself if he said otherwise. He was a grown man, and he couldn’t even keep house for himself.

Standing in the middle of the living room, looking around at the house, that was all he could think about. These thoughts weren’t new. They crept up from time to time when Harry was in London. Louis would need some clean clothes or was craving a dish he couldn’t cook without burning, and he would realize how much more difficult life was when Harry wasn’t taking care of him.

Those self-deprecating moments were the only times when he thought of Harry as taking care of him. Most of the time, Louis thought of their relationship as being on equal footing, but in those moments, he always felt helpless and pathetic, needing Harry if he wanted to function like a well put together adult.

Now he felt that same thing on a greater scale. This wasn’t just some household chore that his boyfriend was more adept at than he was. Harry was ready to take this huge step forward that Louis was holding back on, that Louis still—no matter how much he tried—couldn’t let go of his fear towards.

The cell phone in Louis’ pocket began to ring. For several seconds, Louis stared at the wall, not sure he could be bothered to look at it. Just seconds before it went to voicemail, he tugged it out and looked down at Harry’s name on the screen. His throat tightened as he answered the call and lifted the phone to his ear.

“Hello.” He had to force the word out, making it sound strained.

“Louis, hi,” Harry answered, sounding breathless on the other end of the line.

Louis didn’t respond. He’d already greeted him, and Harry was the one who had called. He waited for Harry to say more, focusing on preparing his voice for the task of answering.

“Louis,” Harry repeated, and there was a hesitation in his voice that had Louis worried. Whatever it was that Harry wanted to say, he was scared to say it, and that scared Louis far more than he had ever thought it would.

“Yeah?” Louis managed to be prompt that time, hoping it didn’t sound discouraging even if it didn’t provide Harry with much reassurance. It was colder than Louis could remember being during a phone call with Harry. Usually, the two of them would already have been exchanging overly sentimental comments about missing each other. There wouldn’t have been any of this strange distance that had worked its way between them and scared Louis more than anything had in his life.

“The boys and I have an interview tomorrow.” There was a pause where Harry seemed to be waiting for a reaction. Louis didn’t have one. One Direction gave interviews all the time. Eventually, Harry continued, “Liam and Niall both think I should do it tomorrow. Even management gave me the go ahead. If I want, I can make the interview a coming out one tomorrow.”

This wasn’t as shocking as it should have been. No matter how much they had each ignored the topic with each other, Louis had known this was bound to happen sooner or later. He’d suspected for a while that some conversation on the topic was continuing to go on between Harry and his management.

Louis let out a long breath. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Harry repeated like he was trying to let Louis down as gently as he could, and maybe he was.

This was the point of no return. This was when Louis began having to make decisions in unknown territory. Any of the knowledge he had built up over the course of his and Harry’s relationship felt useless from here on out. Louis had no way of guessing what the future held for them. It felt a lot like Louis’ longtime dream for the future was crumbling before his eyes.

“You should do it.” And god if that wasn’t the most difficult thing Louis had said in his life.

Louis’ entire body shook. All he wanted was for Harry to wrap his arms around him and hold him until the tension drifted away, but Louis couldn’t get that this time. Even if Harry had been standing in front of him, Louis didn’t think he could have asked for it. He wasn’t sure what Harry would allow of him now. Louis sure didn’t feel worthy of any affection.

There was a loud exhale from Harry’s end of the phone. “Really?”

“Really,” Louis confirmed. “You need to do this. I know you do. I can’t stop you; I won’t stop you.” He took a deep breath. “Harry, I want you to be happy.”

The silence was deafening. Louis could hear the blood rushing through his ears as he waited with baited breath for his boyfriend to say anything, anything at all. Anything that didn’t sound like a goodbye or a dismissal.

“I am happy, Louis. I’m so happy.”

Louis felt butterflies. For the first time in a long time, it was like some of the weight was gone from his shoulders instead of more piling itself on. He smiled, the first time he’d done so all day.

“I’m glad. I always want you to be happy.” Louis wished Harry was in front of him because he wanted to look him in the eyes as he said it. Harry giggled, fucking giggled, into the phone, and Louis almost came undone with longing.

“I want you to be happy too, Louis,” Harry continued. The sadness had crept back into his voice, and Louis wanted to scale Mount Everest just to get rid of it again. “I love you.”

With a sharp intake of breath, Louis digested Harry’s words. It shouldn’t have felt surprising. Nothing about it was surprising. They said the words to each other all the time, and despite their recent conflict, they hadn’t stopped saying it. Louis heard it from Harry on a daily basis, and while it always caused Louis to feel warm inside, he couldn’t have claimed that it surprised him anymore. Of course, Harry loved him.

But something about today made it surprising. Maybe it was because Zayn had managed to make Louis fear a possible future where Harry left him. Nothing would have ever made Louis believe such a thing in the past. They were Louis-and-Harry a unit; they always would be. Louis trusted in that with every fiber of his being. Nothing would make him doubt it.

Except maybe he was beginning to. Suddenly, they disagreed on something so fundamental and crucial to how they lived. For once, it had begun to seem possible that there would be no Louis-and-Harry in the future.

Then Harry had said those three words, and that fear drained out of Louis. Suddenly, he remembered that they were Louis-and-Harry the unit, and they could work these things out. This wasn’t doomsday. It was a shitty situation that they would pull through just like they had countless other situations. The thought made Louis breathe easier.

“Louis, you sound really upset. Are you okay? I swear I won’t do it if you tell me not to.”

Fuck Harry Styles and how every single ounce of him was perfection. Less than an hour ago, Louis had been standing there worrying that Harry would dump him to come out, and here he was offering up the chance for Louis to take back words he had already said. Louis wanted to kiss him. He also wanted Harry to do what he wanted.

“I want you to.” He was working on making that the complete and utter truth, and he was already quite a bit of the way there. “I really do. If you want the honest truth, Harry, I’m scared shitless about you coming out, but I do want you to do it. You have to make the choice for yourself. I can’t control it; all I can do is support you.”

“But something else is wrong.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t know actually. Sometimes I just get you in ways I don’t fully understand. I understand you. There’s something else in your voice. You’re scared of me coming out, yeah, but you seem scared of me too.”

When Harry said it, Louis could hear fear in Harry’s voice, which only scared him even more. They were a right mess.

Louis hadn’t intended to bring it up because it hadn’t felt important in the grand scheme of things, but Harry wasn’t going to let him get away with it.

“I went to see Zayn today.”

“Oh.” There was still confusion in Harry’s voice, but Louis could detect a bit more trepidation than there had been before. “Did he say something or…?”

Louis took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts.

“He said a lot,” he admitted. “It got heated. I kind of ran out after he said some shit about...about you leaving me if I didn’t man up and come out.”

Louis felt frozen as he listened to Harry’s sharp intake of breath. In the silence, Louis could imagine Harry having to collect himself. It wasn’t that often that Harry got angry, but someone coming after their relationship was one of the guaranteed ways to make him look like steam might come out of his ears.

“Louis.” There was so much emotion in Harry’s voice that Louis’ chest tightened. “I’m not going to break up with you. I’m not. God. I can’t believe—I can’t… Louis, you have to listen to me. I don’t care how frustrated you think I am, I’m not breaking up with you. You just told me you want me to be happy, and fuck, I want you to be happy too. I want you to come out because I know that’s what would make you happy in the end, but I would never, absolutely never, break up with you because you weren’t ready. I swear to god, Lou.”

Louis hardly noticed several tears slide down his face.

“I know, I know,” he assured Harry through the phone, and he did know. It all felt foolish after he’d heard Harry’s words. Of course he and Harry would stick together through anything. There was nothing to be scared of. Nothing.

He knew that.

XXX

At no point in history had Louis been so nervous to sit down and watch a television programme. His hands shook, and he felt like vomiting. It was similar to how he felt before important games, but this time he was doing nothing but sitting on the couch and staring at a screen.

His fingers drummed against his thigh. He couldn’t keep still for long with the amount of adrenaline running through his veins.

The cheery music of the talk show began blaring through the speakers, and Louis jumped a mile in the air. It was a good thing he was doing this alone. He wasn’t sure he was going to make it.

The host went through some monologue that Louis tuned out. Finally, the words “One Direction” caught his ears, and Louis perked up, heartbeat spiking. The crowd cheered, and the footage of the set was replaced with a commercial.

They’d be last. Louis was certain of that. Even if it hadn’t been for the texts Harry had been sending him all day (He was going out of his mind with nerves, and Louis wished he was there to comfort him.), just knowing how huge this was going to be was enough to know that the network was holding on until the last moment to keep their audience.

Unfortunately, that meant sitting for nearly an hour while zoning out of things he didn’t care about as his heartbeat raced faster and faster. Louis was going to have a heart attack before Harry had even come out.

Finally, the host announced that their final guests were next. Louis’ eyes went wide as he stared at the screen. His entire body shook as the boys came out and he got his first look at Harry.

He was visibly nervous. At least, it was visible to Louis. His jaw was clenched, something Harry only did when he was uncomfortable. He re-adjusted himself between Liam and Niall several times as if no position felt right. Louis was happy to see that Niall and Liam had flanked him instead of sticking him on the edge nearest the host as if offering him up as a sacrifice. Instead, they were as close to Harry as they could get, leaving more space between them and the edges of the sofa than between them and Harry. Louis noticed Niall go so far as to purposefully bump Harry’s side as they settled down. It looked accidental, but Louis could detect the subtle ways that Niall and Liam were monitoring how Harry felt.

While Harry did a lot of interviews, Louis wasn’t used to watching them anymore. He had early on in their relationship, but somewhere along the way, the artificiality of them had gotten to be too much. Being a supportive boyfriend had given way to being a boyfriend who disliked watching his boyfriend lie by omission every single time he was in front of a camera.

Louis couldn’t remember the last time he had watched one of these, and he hoped he wouldn’t have to again for a long time. Maybe they would get better once Harry was out. Marginally better. Louis still didn’t think they’d hold much appeal. He’d stick with talking to Harry face-to-face.

“How are you boys this morning?” the host asked.

Louis itched to grab his phone and text Harry something funny to put a smile on his face. This was one of the few times that interviews were live and doing such a thing was theoretically possible. The fatal flaw, of course, was that Harry wouldn’t have his phone on him. He always turned it off before going on stage, and even if he’d forgotten, he’d never pull it out to see what Louis had sent him.

Louis did it anyway.

He started with a few heart emojis. Nothing huge, just something for Harry to find once he was off camera.

The niceties had come to a close on stage, with the interviewer moving on to the reasons why people watched these things: the questions.

Louis knew to expect a few icebreakers before they got to the big stuff that everyone had to know was coming. There was a stiffness to all three boys that was unusual. Even the interviewer was feeling the pressure of the task if Louis was judging him well. Other viewers had to be picking up on the signs, even the small ones.

“I hear you’ve been on a bit of a break recently,” the interviewer said in a cheery voice.

The three boys chimed in with their confirmations that they had, indeed, been on a break.

“Just some time off before getting into the studio again,” Liam said, taking the initiative to answer for the band as a whole.

“What do the guys of One Direction do when they’re not working then?”

“I like to sit around at home, play guitar,” Niall said.

The interviewer gave a laugh. “Is that all, Niall? Come on, you’re a young lad and famous to boot. You do more than that. Surely.”

Niall gave a little shrug. “I go out from time to time. Nothing noteworthy. Just your normal sort of thing for a lad me age.”

The interviewer nodded. “What about you, Liam? What’ve you been up to then?”

It was a subtle way of skipping over Harry, saving him for last. Louis watched as his boyfriend’s hands twitched. Niall’s hand shot out before intentionally slowing down as Niall thought about where they were. His arm went around Harry’s shoulders in a move he was trying to make look casual. Luckily, the attention was on Liam, and Louis thought a good portion of the audience wouldn’t have caught the moment.

“Just been having a bit of fun really,” Liam said with a shrug. “Like Niall said, it’s good to have some time to relax and do whatever you want for a bit, yeah?”

“I’d say so,” the interviewer said. “No one else could imagine how stressful your lives are. If I were you, I’d be going to bed as soon as I got off tour.”

Niall and Liam both let out laughs that lacked any genuineness. Harry was lucky that he managed to get out a small smile for half a second.

“What about you, Harry?” the interviewer finally asked. “What’ve you been up to?”

Louis was frozen, staring at the screen, and hardly noticed the sloshing in his stomach.

“Same as most breaks,” Harry said. His voice shook, and he paused to take a deep breath and collect himself. When he continued, he sounded more confident. “I’m quite boring during breaks.”

“I don’t know if we can call Harry Styles boring,” the interviewer joked, basking in the laughs he managed to get from the audience and ignoring the strained smiles of the boys.

“But,” the interviewer continued, “as I understand it, this break has involved quite a bit of thinking for you, Harry.”

Everything about the interviewer made Louis hate him. The way he talked, the way he gestured, even the way he kept looking at Harry like he was a fragile child. Louis hated him. He wanted the interview to end, so Harry could get away from this shit.

“Yeah,” Harry said with a nod. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking.” Another deep breath. “I’ve kind of been coming to terms with some things. Maybe ‘coming to terms’ isn’t the right thing to say. I’ve just decided that I need to say some stuff. Stuff that’s important to me.”

Louis could see Harry becoming less and less confident as he spoke. It wasn’t helped by the way the audience appeared clueless as to what was unfolding in front of them. Why had they given Harry the option to do this on a show with a live studio audience? It could have been pre-recorded or even just in print.

Niall’s arm was still around Harry, and it had tightened, pulling him in closer. Liam had also scooted over so that there was no extra space between him and Harry. They had well and truly boxed him in. Louis wasn’t sure if it looked comforting or as if they were trying to hold down a bird that could fly off at any moment.

The interviewer didn’t say anything, even when the silence stretched on too long. Louis wanted to punch him. Then again, he probably would have punched him had the interviewer “interrupted” Harry by speaking up.

“I’m gay,” Harry choked out. The studio was silent at the statement, but Harry’s shoulders sagged in relief. Smiles broke out on both Niall’s and Liam’s faces as they turned to wrap Harry in a group hug. Harry didn’t return it, but he sat there willingly, smiling uncontrollably in relief.

Tears streaked down Louis’ face as he took a ragged breath, a smile as large as Harry’s on his face.

After the initial pause, the audience went wild. Louis didn't know how many of them were fans and how many were people who had gotten caught up in this because they’d wanted to go to a taping of this show. Whoever was in the audience was making a lot of noise. The camera panned to the standing ovation they were giving him, although Louis figured it was just as likely that they were giving themselves a standing ovation for being lucky enough to watch such a newsworthy event unfold right before their eyes.

It took a while for the commotion to calm down. The interviewer struggled to get the audience quiet, looking desperate as they remained uncooperative. Eventually, the audience was mostly sitting, but the boys, still wrapped up in each other, were paying no attention. Louis loved all three of them so much. If he didn’t get to be there right now, he was thankful that Harry had Liam and Niall.

After several started and stopped attempts at speaking, the interviewer went for it over the commotion. “What made you come out now, Harry? After all this time.”

Harry straightened up. Liam and Niall loosened their grips but didn’t remove their arms from around him. It was obvious for Louis before Harry spoke that this answer had been rehearsed. Everything about this was Harry’s “rehearsed answer” way of presenting himself.

“I’d been thinking about it for a long time. Since X Factor, I suppose.” Louis couldn’t help but snort. Clearly rehearsed, and they’d wanted Harry to end any speculation that the show had deliberately kept him in the closet. Even Harry’s coming out story couldn’t be genuine. So much of it had to stay hushed up.

“But doing it was always daunting,” Harry continued. Louis could detect hints that Harry was becoming more truthful as he spoke, that this was more him and less PR. “Scary even. You never know how people are going to react, and there are always the nasty people. When you’re doing what we are, being likeable matters so much. You want people to like you, and people don’t always like you if you’re gay.”

The audience was dead silent. Louis kind of felt that way too. That wasn’t what he had expected Harry to say, and he had a feeling that bit had been Harry, not Harry’s team. The truth had made the audience uncomfortable, and probably quite a few people watching at home too. Louis felt a rush of pride for Harry, who looked more assured now that he’d gotten his feet under him and knew what he wanted to say.

“It’s interesting you bring that up.” In reality, the interviewer looked more worried than anything. He flipped through his cards, trying to find something about this he had missed, before throwing them down onto his lap when he gave up. “Because it is 2015. You’d think this wouldn’t be a big deal, yet here we are,” he motioned around the studio, “making a big deal about it.”

For the first time, Louis felt satisfied with the interviewer even if he was doing little more than stating the obvious. He appreciated the attempt at highlighting how messed up the world still was that Harry had to do this in the first place.

Harry, being Harry, shrugged it off.

“I try not to act angry about that,” he said. “It sucks, yeah, but there’s nothing I can do except come out. Is there? This is the one thing I have to do to try and change that, so I guess I can’t complain about being in a position where I get to show people who I am and to give us—the LGBT community I mean—more visibility. I’m happy to do that.”

“Harry, you stupid, kind-hearted idiot,” Louis muttered under his breath, still staring at the screen with fondness. His face was beginning to hurt from the wide smile that he could do nothing about.

Harry had every right in the world to hate this. Louis knew he did hate it the majority of the time, but he would never say so in this interview. He did care so much about inspiring people with this. Louis knew he did, and that warmed his heart. He wasn’t as brave as Harry. He held no desire to be a role model.

Zayn’s words from yesterday about Louis having the ability to be a role model for football fans echoed in his head. It was true. Louis’ position as an out player at Manchester United had the potential to inspire a lot of young gay kids. Louis would have latched onto such a person when he was younger. But he didn’t want that person to be him. He didn’t want that attention or that pressure. Harry basked in it and did great things with it. Louis wasn’t cut out for being a role model. He could hardly get his own shit together.

“That’s really great of you, Harry.”

Even Louis beamed with pride at the interviewer’s words. It was great of Harry, and the entire world needed to acknowledge that as far as Louis was concerned.

The interview devolved quickly after that. It becomes clear that the interviewer had been banking on the talk that the coming out itself would cause, and he had little else prepared to talk about with the boys. The few follow up questions he presented were along the lines of “have you got a boyfriend?” and even though Harry got himself out of it with skill, Louis’ heartbeat sped up as he watched. One wrong move on Harry’s part, and Louis would be in trouble.

But, of course, Harry weaved his way through it with ease, having rehearsed all the possible ways to avoid talking about Louis. It was effective. So effective that it kind of killed the interviewer. Louis swore the interviewer was pouting as if he expected to get a second big scoop in the form of the secret boyfriend that he had hoped existed. The thing is that he did exist. Said secret boyfriend was just staying a secret for the time being.

Louis felt exhausted when he turned the television off. He might as well have run a marathon. Closing his eyes to block out the light, Louis tried to process that Harry was out to the world. He couldn’t do it. Nothing about what he had just seen felt real. To him, it was still a dream and would remain so until he’d seen it firsthand.

When Harry came home to Manchester later that night, Louis didn’t let go of him for hours.

XXX

It was impressive how quickly the tabloids latched onto the possibility of Harry and Louis being an “item.” The idea wasn’t original or new. It had circulated in certain parts of the Internet for years, so to Louis, the articles felt unoriginal. They did nothing but repeat what had already been said time and time again except this time it was written by people trying to profit off of exposing Louis, and that rubbed him the wrong way.

Now that they were free to speculate about Harry and boys as much as they wanted, the tabloids ran with it. Harry’s name had never held as much value to the press as it did in the month after he came out. He was supposedly dating every openly gay male in Britain and his fair share of straight ones as well. That should have comforted Louis that their secret was safe, but from his perspective, a bulk of the articles centered on Louis being the object of Harry’s affections. That scared him more than he tried to let on to Harry.

In complete disregard for their agreement, Louis read each of them. He even set up a Google alert for his name, so he got them all in his email. It was the exact thing Louis had been warned against more times than he could count, yet he did it anyway.

His team didn’t hold as much sway as Harry’s. When they were preventing unwanted articles from being published together, it was easy. His team wasn’t prepared to take on the bulk of the rumors by themselves now that Harry’s team didn’t care. So they just didn’t try. Louis’ manager believed that it was getting Louis a lot of press. They couldn’t see the point of making an effort of negotiating with the tabloids. It was only Louis, it seemed, who wanted them to stop. Well, Louis and Harry, who was aware of how uncomfortable Louis was over it. He had never intended to drag Louis into this, but it was as inevitable as Louis had known it would be.

There was nothing Louis could do about the articles, so he kept on reading them. On the more difficult days he also read the comments, something that he remembered was a mistake less than a minute in. Some days he would go on Tumblr, enjoying the support there over the downright cruel comments that sometimes dominated on other sites. His tweets became sporadic as he struggled to stay away from the mentions that were hit or miss in content.

Louis had become scared of the Internet, and he didn’t like it.

Going out felt like a chore in a way it never had before. Louis loved going out in Manchester, but every time he got the chance to go out in London, he took it. It didn’t happen often considering so many of his trips to London had to stay a secret. Over the years, Louis had made his fair share of London friends that he liked spending time with, and nights like these were some of the few times he was able to do that.

And now it was ruined by the questions being shouted at him by the paps as he was hurried into the club. Usually, Louis could tune those things out. It was easy enough to turn it into background noise and focus on getting through the frenzy. Tonight, he couldn’t. Question after question rang loud and clear in his mind.

“Are you dating Harry Styles?”

“Is there anything you want to admit to us, Louis?”

They were all different ways of probing for the same information, and Louis wasn’t giving them any of it.

By the time he was in the club, locked away from the pushy photographers, Louis’ mood had soured. The vibrations of the loud music filling the place didn’t leave Louis feeling the same excitement he expected on nights like this.

“Hey, man!”

Louis hardly heard Liam over the noise. He turned to see the other man standing behind him.

“Hey,” Louis greeted, giving Liam a friendly clap on the shoulder. “Good?”

It was the first time he’d seen Liam in person since Harry had come out. He was curious, now that he thought about it, how Liam and Niall had been taking it. They weren’t mentioned as individuals much in the articles Louis happened to read, but the increased scrutiny towards One Direction must have had some effect.

If it did, Louis wasn’t destined to find out about it tonight. Liam shrugged off the inquiry with a grin. “I’m great,” was the only answer he offered before motioning for Louis to follow him further into the club.

People began to push in harder as the space became more congested. Louis glanced around to make sure he still had security with him. Usually, this felt freeing. Louis could lose himself in clubs in a way he couldn’t at other times. Tonight, he felt very aware of the looks people kept sending him, ones that showed they’d read the same articles he had. It wasn’t as if he felt physically threatened, yet Louis longed for some sort of emotional protection against what people thought.

Louis tried to shake himself out of it and convince himself that he was making it up. Liam showed no awareness of what was going on, but then again, he always got stared at more than Louis in these situations. The looks would have blended into the background. Harry often didn’t realize people were looking at him because it had become such an ingrained facet of his life. Maybe Liam felt the same way and wasn’t picking up on the people around them.

Excited cheering managed to rise above the music. Louis looked over to see a handful of some of his and Liam’s mutual friends gathered together. Liam was quickly immersed into the group, and Louis followed after him.

His mood already felt better just by virtue of the fact that he was surrounded by people who knew. Everyone here was aware of Louis and Harry: the couple, so there was no facade to maintain. The other people in the club could look at him all they wanted, but if Louis just focused on the people in front of him, it would be fine.

Louis settled into the open seat that Perrie was patting beside her as she watched him approach.

“Louis!” she greeted, throwing her arms around him in a hug before he had touched the couch.

“Hi, love,” he answered softly. Louis had always had a soft spot for Perrie. Something about her bubbly personality was refreshing to him. She never seemed to be in a bad mood and was always having a good time. If anyone could cheer Louis up, it would be Perrie.

“How are you?” he asked, a bit worried about the answer. He hadn’t seen her in several months, and a lot had happened since then.

“Is that your way of asking about Zayn?” she asked with a wry grin. “I’m fine. Great actually. It’s been busy preparing for the new album to drop and then the tour after that.”

She babbled on excitedly about Little Mix’s new album for a couple of minutes after that, and Louis listened with genuine interest. Already, Perrie’s enthusiasm for life was shining through, as infectious as always.

Louis thought he was looking happier too, but then Perrie’s smile became muted, and she nudged Louis in the arm.

“How have you been? I’ve seen some of the tabloids. I know how much that shit sucks.

Louis shrugged, unsure of how to respond. There was no way to make it appear like it had all been a laugh. Perrie knew enough to understand, even if she hadn’t experienced the ins and outs of being closeted. Louis had seen more than her fair share of tabloid articles attacking her. She understood that aspect of it at least.

“It hasn’t been great,” he admitted. Louis had never been one to sit and complain to others about his problems. Doing so always made him worried that he’d come across as whiny and unappreciative of how lucky he was in many other ways. Even when others seemed to provide an invitation to complain like Perrie was, Louis couldn’t bring himself to do it unless it was through humor. And Louis had been struggling to find the humor in this since it began.

Perrie smiled at him. She knew what he meant without Louis saying much of anything. She scooted closer and patted him on the shoulder.

“I talked to Zayn a couple days ago,” she admitted. That perked Louis up for several reasons. He was surprised Zayn and Perrie had been talking, of course, but he also felt like Perrie had a specific reason for bringing this up. One Louis didn’t want to discuss.

“Oh, really?” Louis asked in the worst attempt at nonchalance that he’d ever heard.

Perrie hummed in confirmation. “We had some things we needed to talk about, but that’s not here or there. When he heard that I might see you while you were in London, he mentioned what had happened the last time he’d seen you.”

Louis wanted to curse Zayn. He really, truly did, but that wouldn’t have helped his attempts at acting unaffected. So instead he smiled uneasily under Perrie’s watchful gaze.

“Did he?”

Perrie sighed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and tugging him into her side. “He did. I think he wanted me to check up on you actually, since you won’t talk to him.”

Louis snorted. “Since when does Zayn bother to check up on people?”

“I don’t think he thought you would stay angry at him this long. He said you’ve ignored a few of his texts and that doesn’t usually happen.”

Louis’ nose wrinkled in disgust. “Yeah, almighty Zayn Malik who never answers anyone’s calls. Of course he’ll get angry when someone does the same to him. Someone needs to tell him that he’s not a god.”

Perrie pulled away, shocked by the sudden hate Louis was exuding.

“Wow,” she murmured. “He was right about you being angry then. Mind you, I understand. He didn’t hold back with telling me what he said, and I don’t approve of any of it. But I wasn’t expecting you to react quite like that more than a month after it happened.”

Louis hadn’t either if he were being honest. He’d thought he’d put the argument with Zayn behind him. Not in the sense that he’d forgiven Zayn. He hadn’t, and at that point wasn’t sure he would. But he hadn’t realized that he was still actively holding onto anger until Perrie had brought it up to him for the first time since it had happened.

He didn’t have an excuse for himself either. It was what it was. Louis was fucking pissed at Zayn, just like he was pissed at entertainment writers and people who owned tabloids and paparazzi and whoever else was responsible for this shit.

“I may be a little angry,” he attempted to joke. Perrie smiled, but it wasn’t one of true amusement.

Jade wound her way over to them, squeezing into what little space was left between Perrie and the end of the couch. She had a full drink in her hand, and it sloshed dangerously as she sat. Louis watched it closely, eager to transfer his anxiety to something harmless like if a drink would stay in a glass or not.

“Some guy tried to hit on me by using a line about hoping I didn’t like dicks like I like my girl groups,” she scoffed. “I swear. Can you believe he thought that would work?”

Louis laughed, causing Jade to glance over at him for the first time and smirk.

“You’d be surprised, Louis. That’s not the first time I’ve heard that one.”

“Sometimes I think they get nervous,” Perrie chimed in. Her voice sounded sympathetic for the blokes, an emotion Louis wasn’t sure they warranted. It was clear from Jade’s judgmental expression that she didn’t either. “It could be hard on them talking to us when they’ve seen us on telly.”

Jade shrugged. “Maybe, but the line still doesn’t do it for me.”

She took a sip from her drink, lowering its chances of spilling over the side. She kept her eyes on Louis as if she was inspecting him. Louis braced himself for another “how are you doing?” question, but it didn’t come.

“Zayn’s a right dick, innit he?”

Louis let out a loud, unexpected snort. It was the loudest and most genuine laugh he could remember having in a couple of weeks. Perrie looked affronted, letting out a loud, “Jade!” when Jade said it, but when she saw Louis laughing, she appeared less certain over whether or not Jade deserved a scolding.

“Zayn is, in fact, a dick,” Louis agreed, and he and Jade had a brief bonding moment where they smirked at each other and nodded. Perrie rolled her eyes between them.

“He’s been going through a lot,” Perrie added. “Not that I’m defending him. It was still shit. I’m just saying that he’s been more of a dick lately than he usually is.”

“Has he?” Jade replied. “I hadn’t noticed.” She swirled her drink around absentmindedly. Leaning over Perrie, she began to faux whisper to Louis in as quiet a voice as she could manage while still being heard in the club. “I think he’s bitter. Finally realized what a mistake he made.” She motioned over to Perrie with a nod, causing Perrie to roll her eyes again and glance away awkwardly. “Now he’s all mad at himself about it and needed to take it out on you.”

Jade leaned back once she was finished, putting more space between her and Louis, but Louis was still very much interested in talking about this. In all of his steaming about Zayn, he hadn’t thought about Zayn’s intentions. He also hadn’t thought about whether or not Zayn was qualified to give him relationship advice considering the state of his last one.

“You’re kinda right though,” he told Jade, causing her to smirk and nudge Perrie in the side. “What right does he have trying to doom my relationship?”

Louis could hear how his voice heated up. He was ushered along by the way Perrie and Jade smiled at him.

“Like Zayn knows fuck all about working relationships,” Louis muttered. “Fuck that.”

Jade giggled, and a bit of her drink did slosh over onto her hand this time. Jade let out a surprised sound, lifting her hand to her mouth to lick it off. She spent a good few minutes inspecting her clothes for any possible spills. Perrie watched her in amusement for a few moments but then turned back to Louis.

“You good?” she asked, and for some reason, this time the question felt much different than it had the first time she’d asked it. Louis offered her a soft smile.

“I’m good, love. Really good, I think. Getting out tonight was good for me.”

Perrie smiled and nodded. Louis wasn’t sure if she knew that the extent of his night had been talking to her, that it had only been this conversation that had left him feeling better. Louis thought that she did understand.

For the rest of the night, Louis had an easier time relaxing and having fun. For the first time in ages, it felt like things were fine. Louis forgot about the tabloids and the rumors. All of it became meaningless as he relaxed for once.

Late in the night, when he curled up against an already sleeping Harry in bed, it came back to him, but somehow, it didn’t feel as scary as it had before. Louis closed his eyes as Harry’s warmth lulled him to sleep.

XXX

One Direction flew to America a week later. Louis braced himself for the usual melancholy he felt whenever Harry was gone, but it was just that: usual. Louis’ life felt normal again. His own brand of normal.

After more than a month of articles that provided no confirmation, the tabloids were losing steam when it came to putting out rumors that Louis and Harry were together. People still discussed it online, but Louis’ Twitter mentions weren’t full of it like they had been before. There was a noticeable return to routine.

Only then was Louis sure that he didn’t want a complete return to routine. He was ready for change. He’d always tried to present himself as someone up for anything, not someone who got stuck in ruts. So when, exactly, had he allowed himself to get stuck in this rut?

“I want to come out.”

Louis was surprised when his manager smirked without showing any hint of surprise. The woman leaned back in her seat, arms folded across her chest.

“I’ve been waiting for this. Any thoughts on how you want to do it?”

Maybe Louis should have been expecting it from the way his management hadn’t hushed up the rumors. They had to have been monitoring Harry’s coming out and the largely positive reaction he’d managed to receive. It shouldn’t have been shocking that they were letting him do it just like that after years of warning him against it. But it was. Because there had been years of warning him against it.

“I-I can do it? Just like that.”

This was the first time in his life that Louis could remember her looking at him gently. She smiled at him in a way that wasn’t to mask annoyance. It scared him.

“Just like that,” she confirmed. “We’ve had some discussion around the office. Not official meetings, of course. You’d have to be there for that.” Louis wasn’t so sure. “But there’s been talk. Everyone agrees that we’re better off letting you come out now than continuing to hide it. That feels rather useless at this point.”

“You’re doing this because you’ve seen how much press being with Harry will get me, aren’t you?”

Louis didn’t actually need the confirmation, and she didn’t give it to him. Her smile turned into more of a smirk, but other than that, she acted like Louis hadn’t spoken.

“Do you have a preference for how to do this?” she asked instead, glancing down at the tablet she held in her hands.

Louis sighed. He would never get direct answers from the people who held his life in their hands. As always, he had to trust that their interests would align with his enough that nothing would go wrong. Something he hadn’t believed in years.

“I don’t want an interview like Harry had,” Louis began. “Not at first. I want it to be simpler than that. Interviews can come later. I’m not going to avoid talking about it forever, but I want a smaller step first. One that involves people knowing but where I don’t have to sit in front of a million cameras and make the words come out in a way that sounds nice.”

His manager nodded along, appearing unsurprised. She always had this scary way of acting like she knew what Louis would do before he did it. He supposed that was a good skill for people in this business, but when she combined it with being closed off most of the time, it unnerved him. Louis had known this woman for years, yet knew almost nothing about her. Meanwhile, she seemed to know every aspect of his life.

“Would a print interview work better for you? We could write most of your answers for you.” She cut Louis off before he could speak. “I knew you’d be against it. If I were you, I’d think about it though. It’s the easiest coming out method I know of. These days, of course, there’s always online video. A quick video on Youtube, tweet out the link, and you’re set. Many people prefer that way because it gives off a certain level of intimacy. It’s easy to make an audience sympathetic when you’re down on their level without the glam of television studios or magazine covers.”

Louis could see the appeal of doing this on his own, just sitting down and talking to fans, but he knew it wouldn’t be like that. There’d still be approvals to go through, and Louis still worried about not being able to get the words right.

“I suppose you’d never go for a simple tweet,” Louis said, and it was only half meant as a joke. It did hold appeal to him, but even before he saw the look of disapproval, he knew it was a terrible idea.

With a sigh, Louis asked, “Is there any other way to do it that you can think of?”

She mimicked his sigh, propping an elbow up on her desk and resting her head in her hand.

“None that are ideal.”

Louis struggled to decide what to do. Now that he’d made the decision, he was determined to come out. But none of these ways of doing it felt right. His manager, for her part, stayed silent as he sat there. She flipped through papers as if giving him a miniscule bit of privacy. Or she was just more concerned about her other work than she was him. One of the two.

“Can I talk to Harry first?” Louis asked, voice trembling. He didn’t like that he needed to ask permission for this, but it seemed necessary. “I don’t mean on the phone. Can I go see him?”

She watched him carefully. They’d never been allowed this before. Louis had come to a few shows in Britain and even a couple in other parts of Europe, although those had been kept a secret. He’d never been allowed to fly to America while Harry was on tour despite the decreased risk of him being noticed in the States of all places. Everyone knew that no one there watched football.

“I’ll let you go see Harry if you promise not to do anything risky.”

Louis nodded. In reality, he couldn’t swear anything. He had been feeling irrational ever since he set this meeting up with the intention of doing it. While he had every intention of listening to his management in this, he couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t do something rash in the heat of the moment. Everyone on his team knew that was a risk of managing Louis Tomlinson. He could see it on her face as she watched him.

“I won’t do anything risky,” Louis said in the most convincing voice possible.

Whether she believed him or not, she nodded. “You can go to America. I don’t know where One Direction is today, but let me know whatever city you wind up in, will you? Letting you go after him is one thing, losing track of you is another.”

“I’ll call,” Louis promised halfheartedly, smile on his lips. She gave him a stern look, one that was an attempt at putting him in line but one that was not very successful. “If you’ll excuse me,” Louis stood from his chair and began backing out of the office, “I have a flight to go book.”

With one last grin over his shoulder, Louis was gone. He hurried through the office building and to his car. His entire body felt like it was vibrating. Nothing he did was moving fast enough. It took everything in his being not to go double the speed limit on the way home, and he may not have been able to keep himself in check if it hadn’t been for the other traffic impeding him.

It was the same once he was back home. There was so much to be done. Louis had no idea how long this trip would take, but he had to pack something. It took longer than expected to tug one of his suitcases out of the closet and throw as much as he could in it. Louis paid little attention to what was going in the bag. A few shirts, a few pairs of trousers, a few pairs of pants. He grabbed a few of the contents of each drawer without looking at them.

Then he was in the bathroom trying to jam everything into a toiletries bag. This time he paid more attention to assure that he was grabbing everything essential.

Passport. He needed his passport, of course. That was in the safe that Louis had forgotten the combination to. He struggled with that while also attempting to book his ticket from his laptop. The attempt at multitasking made everything take longer than it would have otherwise, and it left Louis in an aggravated state.

He breathed easier once the passport was in his hand and the tickets booked.

Then, and only then, did he call Harry.

“If I’m at home right now, do you think I can make it to the airport and through security in two hours?” Louis asked as soon as he heard the click of the call being answered.

Harry was quiet for a moment, and Louis worried that he’d screwed up before he’d even left the house.

“Harry?” he questioned.

“Airport?” Harry finally asked. “What do you mean? Where are you going?”

Harry sounded worried as well as confused. Louis smirked as he imagined Harry going through reasons why Louis could need to fly on such a short notice. There weren’t any that he knew about.

“I just booked a flight to Milwaukee.”

“Milwaukee,” Harry repeated in disbelief. “I’m in Milwaukee.”

God, Harry was going to wind up killing Louis with fondness.

“That would be the point, love.”

The line went silent. Louis waited with baited breath for Harry to have a reaction that he could actually hear.

“You’re coming on tour?” Harry questioned, still sounding confused. “With us? But management. And whatever else.”

“I don’t have any…responsibilities, or whatever, with football for another week. And I just got out of a meeting with management before I booked the ticket. Everything is set.”

“They let you?” Harry asked incredulously.

Louis smirked at the memory. “She may have acted cold, but I think they’re pissing themselves with excitement. I’m not going to give them a normal coming out. I’m going to be connected to tabloid cover regular Harry Styles. I don’t think they’re worried despite what rules they try to set.”

“Are they pressuring you to come out?” Harry asked, anger piling on top of his worry. Louis’ smile of amusement softened to one of fondness. 

“No one’s pressuring me. We’ll talk more about when I get to Milwaukee, okay?”

Because this wasn't something Louis wanted to tell Harry over the phone. He wanted to be there, to look him in the eyes when he said it. This was something Louis needed to see Harry’s reaction to. That was his biggest motivation to make this spontaneous trip.

Louis was all smiles when he hung up the phone. He felt happier than he had in a long time, and he still had hours upon hours on aeroplanes before he got to see Harry.

Everything felt like it was falling into place for the first time.

XXX

The Milwaukee airport wasn’t as hectic as the one in Manchester that Louis used frequently. It felt homely in comparison.

There was a man waiting with a car, and Louis’ heart raced as they drove to the hotel, to Harry. He was so close. Harry’s tour had only just begun, yet it felt incredible to know there was no ocean between them anymore.

Louis had never been to this part of the United States, and he tried to take in his surroundings as the car drove. It was early morning, long before the majority of the city was up and moving around. It was peaceful, but it didn't hold Louis’ attention.

He tapped his fingers on the door, anxious to arrive. When they did come into sight of the hotel, Louis was shocked to discover a crowd of One Direction fans in front of the building despite the hour.

He shouldn't have been. Although Louis had few first hand accounts of the fans at hotels, he knew they did this. For some reason, he had expected the couple of hours before sunrise to be the one time of day where everyone was gone. The fans didn't subscribe to that logic.

None of them paid attention to the car as the driver pulled around to the back. Maybe they knew the boys were already inside. Maybe they were too tired to think much of it. For whatever reason, Louis’ car attracted no attention.

The back of the hotel was quieter than the front. Louis was hurried out. Despite there being no fans here, a couple members of One Direction’s security had come down to meet him, no doubt worried about potential photos should one person catch them without being noticed. It annoyed Louis, who wanted to be done with this constant need to hide everything he did, but he didn’t resist as they hurried him inside. Cooperating and hurrying were what would get him to Harry.

Inside the elevator, everything was quiet. Louis glanced around at the four buff guys that had wound up in here with him. One security guard of his own, two of One Direction’s, and a hotel staff member who had come along for the ride. None of them spoke. Louis tapped his toe against the floor as he tried to stay awake. He hadn’t slept on the plane, and he was willing to bet that he and his man were worse off than the others.

When the doors opened, one of One Direction’s people stepped off first. Louis should have known these people’s names after so long, but he didn’t. They blended together in his head. Harry usually resisted bringing security along on the few excursions they were allowed, a move that wasn’t frowned on when they were in top secret mode.

The man stopped outside a door, reaching out to knock.

“Harry’s in there,” he told Louis, who nodded, and with a sharp nod and a tired grunt in return, the man continued down the hall. No doubt hoping to sleep as soon as possible.

Louis turned to his guard, the only one still standing about. “You good?” he asked.

The man nodded with a small smile. He’d been with Louis for such a long time that he could almost have been a friend.

“Yeah, got my room.” He held up the room key for emphasis. “Go get your boy.”

With one last grin, the guard headed off down the hall to where his room waited. As soon as he was gone, it hit Louis what was happening, and his smile grew larger than ever. He only had a split second to process it before the door in front of him swung open.

For a second, he and Harry stood on opposite sides of the doorway and watched each other. Despite the bed tousled hair, Harry’s eyes were too alert for him to have been woken up. He’d been waiting.

“Hi,” Louis said with a gentle smile, stepping forward. Harry opened his arms and let Louis step into them. They both hardly had enough awareness to let the door swing shut behind them.

“Hi,” Harry murmured in reply, leaning down to place a quick kiss on Louis’ forehead. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too.” Louis further proved his words by burrowing his face into Harry’s chest.

“Bed,” Harry said shortly, as if he’d just remembered it was there. He lead Louis into the room until they hit the bed and almost tumbled backwards. Louis giggled as they righted themselves and crawled into the already unmade bed. Louis snuggled into Harry, placing his head on his chest. Harry pulled the covers up over them and wrapped both of his arms around Louis.

“‘M glad you’re here,”Harry muttered sleepily.

“Me too.” Louis lifted himself up on his elbow long enough to catch Harry’s eye. “But you’re tired and have a concert tomorrow. Get some sleep, babe.”

Harry didn’t respond beyond a hum. He was already snuggling further into the pillow, eyes closed and a peaceful smile on his face.

Louis watched him for a few seconds before placing his own head back down on the pillow that was his boyfriend’s chest and letting the steady breaths beneath him lull him to sleep.

XXX

Louis had never experienced a One Direction tour to this extent. Whenever he’d gone, there had been a house for them to go back to at the end of the day. He’d never witnessed the life of hotels and tour buses, only heard about it from Harry secondhand.

Harry wasn’t used to Louis being there either. He kept glancing over as if he’d forgotten Louis was beside him, and each time, he would take a second to smile and marvel over the fact that his boyfriend was standing right there.

Louis hadn’t fully processed it either.

One thing Louis learned quickly was that there was a noticeable lack of privacy on tour.

Niall had come banging in that morning without a care in the world about what Louis and Harry were up to. He’d shrugged off Louis’ complaints of “what if we’d walked in on you sleeping with a girl without knocking?” Harry had pointed out that it wasn’t like that hadn’t happened before. No one had taken the time to share more of that story with Louis, so he was still in the dark, which might have been a shame.

There was still so much that Harry needed to be told.

There was an hour before the show when Louis managed to be in the same place as Harry with no one around. It was sure to last only minutes, if not seconds, but somehow, the rest of the room was deserted. The realization surprised him so much that he could only look around the room with wide eyes several times before he accepted it as fact.

All day he’d been waiting for an opportunity to tell Harry everything, but now he hesitated. Someone was sure to walk in at any moment. If they couldn’t have privacy in their hotel room, then how could they backstage with people everywhere? This conversation wasn’t one that Louis wanted others to overhear. But it was also something he desperately needed to discuss with Harry.

“Harry,” Louis said softly, still unsure over whether or not he should bring up the topic.

Harry hummed in reply, turning to look at him. He saw Louis’ nervous expression and took Louis’ hand in both of his own, trailing his fingers along Louis’ skin.

“What is it?” he asked. Louis could detect a hint of worry. Harry knew that he hadn’t gotten an explanation for Louis’ sudden arrival in America. It didn’t take a genius to realize that had to be coming.

Louis took a deep breath before taking the plunge. “You know how I said that I had a meeting with my management yesterday? Before I booked the ticket?” Harry nodded, watching Louis closely. “I didn’t go to that meeting to beg to come here.”

“I figured.”

“Right.” Louis leaned over to place his head on Harry’s shoulder, and he shivered as Harry’s hand found his hair. “I went to talk to them about coming out.”

Harry’s hand paused for a second before he continued playing with the strands of Louis’ hair. Maybe it hadn’t been unexpected. On some level, Harry might have known it was coming sooner rather than later. But Harry still breathed out a, “Really?” that sounded like he couldn’t accept this as reality yet.

“Really,” Louis confirmed. He reached out to reclaim the hand of Harry’s that wasn’t in his hair, gripping it tightly. “I want to do this. I almost think I need to do this. Not because of anyone else,” he added quickly, raising his head to look Harry in the eye. He could tell that Harry had been about to protest. “I need you to understand that. That I’m doing this because I need to, not because anyone else needs me to. Okay? I promise.”

Whatever fight had been in Harry left and was replaced with a gentle smile. “I understand.”

Louis grinned and maneuvered himself so that he was sitting on Harry’s lap, a position that came with greater ease of looking Harry in the eye, something that felt important for this conversation. Harry’s strong, familiar arms wrapped around his waist, both pulling him in and steadying him. Louis thought it might have been his favorite feeling in the world.

“Why now?” Harry asked. It was the one question Louis had known to expect above all the others.

He shrugged, still unsure even after his internal debating over how to phrase his feelings so that others would understand.

“It’s been coming for a while, hasn’t it? Since before you brought up coming out to me that first time. I wanted to do it, but I’d gotten stuck in the present, the hiding we’d been doing for so long. I hate myself for this, but I think that became a safety blanket at some point. When you made serious comments about coming out, it was like you were tugging at the safety blanket, and I panicked. I didn’t know what to do, and I think my backlash might have been stronger than what was warranted. I was more surprised than scared, looking back. I was so surprised that I thought I was scared. I don’t know if that makes any sense.”

He buried his face into the familiar crook of Harry’s neck out of frustration with himself and his inability to explain what had been going through his mind over the past however many months.

“Feelings don’t always make sense, Louis.”

God bless Harry Styles and his ability to say shit like that when Louis was feeling like an idiot. He was the only one who could say those sorts of things and have Louis take him seriously.

“I guess,” Louis conceded, still not willing to give up the idea that he had been stupid. “I don’t know. I can’t change the reaction I had, but I can realize what I need to do now. And that’s come out.”

Harry nodded along. His fingers stroked the skin underneath the hem of Louis’ shirt.

“When is it happening? Did you set plans? Are they going to let you do it?”

Harry sounded panicked with his last question, and with a gentle smile, Louis took Harry’s face in both of his hands.

“They’re letting me do it. Not only that, I think they’re happy about it. Not because it’s good for me, mind you, but because it’ll get press when I tell the world I’m in love with you. But I don’t care as long as I get to tell the world that I love you.”

Harry’s smile was blinding. He leaned in to place a brief kiss on Louis’ lips. “Finally,” he murmured, lips still brushing Louis’.

“Finally,” Louis echoed, leaning in to kiss Harry again. And several more times after that.

After a few minutes of kissing that Louis didn’t want to end, he pulled away.

“The problem,” he continued, stroking his thumb along Harry’s cheekbone, “is that I can’t figure out how to do it. Nothing feels right. An interview is too much. I can’t do it. A magazine article would just be someone else’s twisted words. A video on Youtube is too much pressure on me. I’d make a right mess of everything. A tweet is insufficient. I have nothing.”

It was silent. Harry’s eyes became distant, lost in thought. Louis played with Harry’s hair as a way of distracting himself, and despite being in his own little world, Harry responded to his touch. All the emotions from the past days or weeks or even months seemed to hit Louis at once. Suddenly, there were tears falling down his face. He wasn’t sobbing. He wasn’t even sad. He felt relieved, like he could finally release much of what he’d been holding in, and having Harry here, touching him, only made it feel more real.

Harry reached out to wipe away the tears, and Louis grinned at him. His eyes were focused on Louis again, not distant, and Louis leaned in to place a quick kiss to his lips.

“So you don’t want to have to explain yourself,” Harry said once they’d parted.

Louis nodded. “Not at first. Not in a way where I have the potential to screw everything up.”

Louis could see how Harry bit his tongue. He could imagine the words floating through Harry’s head. “You wouldn’t mess anything up.” But he didn’t say them. It was of no use either way. Whether Louis would or not, that wasn’t the way he wanted to do things. It didn’t feel like the way he should do things.

“What if I helped?”

Louis hadn’t expected the question. Harry was already out, and while their relationship was sure to be front and center with this, he hadn’t planned on Harry actually helping with his initial outing.

“You mean alongside me in an interview? Because I’d still-” Harry shook his head. Louis bit his lip trying to think about what else he could mean. “Being photographed? I know that would start more rumors, but I’m not sure it’s the most reliable way.”

Harry grinned, but Louis could tell he still hadn’t quite gotten there, only closer.

“Kind of being photographed,” Harry said. “Except I was thinking of the fans being the paparazzi, and I’m not talking about strolling down the street holding hands in a way that some desperate people will try to spin into a bromance thing.”

“Harry.” There was anxiety building in Louis’ stomach, but he wasn’t sure it was a bad anxiety. It was more like anticipation for something that he realized was going to happen soon. “Kissing?” he asked, although he already knew the answer before Harry gave him one.

“And not just on the street. The fans would find us there, true, but the paps would be out there the second we are as well. I don’t want them making money off this.”

It was a pointless statement. On one hand, one talk show had made plenty of money off having Harry’s exclusive coming out story. On the other, people were going to make money off Louis’ too. They just were. Even without an exclusive, tabloids would run the story and get hits. That’s how their lives worked.

He still liked the idea of playing into the paps’ hands as little as possible. Louis wanted coming out to be his own doing, and if he were to get any help beyond Harry, Louis could agree that the help should come from the fans. At least their actions were fueled by their care for him and Harry, not from the drive to make a profit.

“Your plan?”

Harry smirked, looking downright devious as he laid it out.

“Our concert tonight. The one in a couple of hours. I invite you on stage and kiss you. In front of everyone. That will throw away any doubts, right? Especially if I introduce you as my boyfriend.”

Such a thrilled sensation rushed through Louis that for a second he thought he was dying. The combination of the look on Harry’s face and the image Harry had created in Louis’ mind was overwhelming.

“I like that idea,” Louis admitted. “It’s loads better than any of the others.”

Harry smiled, quite proud of himself for having come up with a better plan than anyone else.

“I know you,” Harry said. “Far better than your management team. Did you really doubt that I could come up with a better idea?”

Louis couldn’t help but drop a kiss onto Harry’s cheek. “It wasn’t about doubting you, darling,” he droned sarcastically in an attempt to keep some of the fondness away. “I was beginning to doubt a better plan even existed.”

“So we’re doing it?” Harry asked, eyes hopeful.

Louis chuckled. “We’re doing it. As long as Liam and Niall are okay with it.”

Harry threw his arms around Louis and buried his face in Louis’ shoulder.

“Are you kidding?” Harry mumbled into the fabric of Louis’ t-shirt. “They’ll throw us a party. They were happy enough when I came out, but this means no more of the lying. They’re going to be nearly as relieved as we are.”

“So glad my coming out can make everyone else’s lives easier.”

Harry went stiff and pulled back from the hug, his forehead wrinkled in concern. “Louis.”

“Harry,” Louis stopped him from speaking. “It was a joke. Don’t worry, love. I’m happy that Liam and Niall are going to be happy for me.”

Harry smiled and tugged him down into a congratulatory kiss.

XXX

“Spontaneously” pulling Louis onto stage took a surprising amount of planning on Harry’s part. It felt like everyone backstage had to be told, yet it was a secret that had to be kept firmly out of the wrong hands. That meant spreading it to the pertinent people while avoiding anyone Harry deemed the untrustworthy.

Louis, who hardly knew any of these people, didn’t understand why the random guy who did whatever needed to know about it, but apparently it was important. One Direction concerts took a lot of planning in a way Louis never would have expected from the audience’s perspective.

By the time the concert started, Louis was backstage, listening to the noise level that could never quite be beaten by any other event and trying not to hyperventilate.

It wasn’t going to happen until the end of the show, right before the last song of the night. That had been the one requirements imposed on them by One Direction’s management, who otherwise were surprisingly happy to go along with this. Like Louis’ management, they undoubtedly saw this as a great PR opportunity, but they wanted it to be a grand finale, unexpected by the audience. The end of the show would give the fans a better chance to spread it faster than they would otherwise, someone from the team had theorized. It was probably true.

But the long wait had Louis on edge. This wasn’t his first One Direction concert, but he couldn’t find much joy in it. Instead, each song passing marked another few minutes gone before a time when he would no longer be in the closet. All he could do while waiting was listen to the noise out in the stadium.

He’d been offered a box. Harry had tried long and hard to convince Louis to take it and watch most of the concert from there. No doubt he thought a box would be more relaxing, but standing here, right backstage, was the closest Louis could get to Harry at the moment, and it was where he planned to stay until he could have Harry’s hand to steady himself.

There were moments when he could hear Harry, particularly when he interacted with the crowd, that Louis wished he could see him. Few things brought Louis as much joy as watching Harry do what he loved. That brought him momentary relief, but the nerves always came back.

When the final chords of the penultimate song faded away, Louis was squatting backstage doing his best not to be sick. He listened as Liam talked to the crowd outside, and Louis wondered if any of them realized that this was a stall. Did they realize that Harry had disappeared backstage right before the last song of the encore? Were they suspicious?

Harry kneeled down at Louis’ side, placing a comforting hand on his back.

“You okay?” he asked Louis softly, or as softly as he could when it was still difficult to talk over the screaming.

Louis nodded unconvincingly, and Harry sat down on the ground, opening his arms to let Louis settle his head onto his chest. In the back of his mind, Louis knew this was creating more problems for Liam, who had to continue stalling outside, but he relaxed into Harry’s grip anyway, some of the tension melting away.

“Did I ever tell you that I puked twice backstage before that interview?” Harry said. It almost sounded like he was recalling a fond memory and not a horrible one.

Louis shook his head.

“Well, I did. It wasn’t pretty.”

That surprised Louis. For all of the nerves Harry had shown on television that day, Louis would never have expected that he was as bad off as having vomited not long before.

He pulled away to look up at Harry. “Did you really?”

At any other point in time, Louis would have been angry at how hopeless and almost childlike his voice sounded. As it was, he just wanted whatever comfort Harry could provide. Harry who kept touching him in the most comforting manner possible. Harry who Louis wanted to spend his whole life with. Harry who Louis wanted to sing the full, uncensored praises of to the entire world, which required going out there and snogging him senseless.

Well, maybe not senseless. Some things still deserved to be private, and there were toddlers out there. But snog him enough for everyone to know that he was Louis’ and Louis was his, that Louis loved Harry Styles more than anything.

“I’m ready,” Louis announced suddenly. He rose to his feet and tugged Harry up after him.

Harry accepted his announcement, not questioning him anymore about his nerves. He took Louis’ hand and led him out onto the stage. The second they stepped into view, a level of screaming that Louis hadn’t heard all night erupted throughout the stadium. Almost simultaneously, Louis’ stomach dropped, and he felt the temptation to puke return. Except this wasn’t backstage like Harry had done. This would be in front of thousands of people who could share the moment with the world.

Then Louis zeroed in on Harry’s hand gripping his, and the nausea lessened enough to be manageable. Harry led them out to the middle of the stage, smiling larger than Louis had ever seen him smile before. He looked way too at ease amidst the cheering that refused to subside.

Niall was laughing, though Louis couldn’t make it out over the roar. Liam clapped him on the shoulder as he relinquished his hold on the audience, ambling across the stage to stand out of the way with Niall.

Harry didn’t have his microphone. Louis realized that when they got there. Talking wasn’t what they’d come out here to do. That had been the point of doing it this way, yet it felt odd to Louis.

Only seconds had passed since they’d walked out, but it felt like so much longer. Louis felt like he’d entered some strange time warp where he could process a million different things in a few seconds. He didn’t think he would have trouble remembering this moment in minute detail.

Then Harry was in front of him, and all Louis could see was the boy he loved. The crowd faded away, even the screaming that was doing permanent damage to his ear drums. Harry leaned down, kissing Louis, and even then, Louis couldn’t hear the crowd lose it to a degree that had perhaps never been seen at a One Direction concert. It was an impressive feat, and one that had Liam and Niall rejoicing in their own ways at the side of the stage, where they were hyping the audience up even further.

By their usual standards, the kiss was a chaste, unimpressive one, but it felt important. Louis could feel how much Harry loved him, and it became difficult for them to hold back grins as their lips pressed against each other’s. Once they had pulled apart, Louis could focus on little except Harry as he reached up to brush the hair out of Harry’s face. This time he heard the screaming, and he and Harry giggled together, still looking at nothing but each other.

When Louis woke up the next day, it would be to a flood of press like he’d never seen before. Plenty of it would be positive, but the negative would stand out in his mind. He’d have to field a phone call from his management, who would be annoyed rather than angry that they hadn’t been informed of the plan in order to prepare for the onslaught. It wouldn’t all be pleasant, and at times, Louis would say he downright hated dealing with it.

But in that moment, when the world was just him and Harry surrounded by some very noisy support, Louis felt like he could take all of that on and more. He felt free and unchained for the first time since being in the public eye, and even tomorrow, he would say that it was worth it.


End file.
